


Jimmy Bondage

by MApoapsis



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-31
Updated: 2001-12-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MApoapsis/pseuds/MApoapsis
Summary: Our favorite Lone Gunmen wannabe is kidnapped by Krycek.





	Jimmy Bondage

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Jimmy Bondage by Mark Apoapsis

Title: Jimmy Bondage  
Author: Mark Apoapsis  
E-mail:   
Website: http://Mark.Apoapsis.wants.to/write/slash/  
Pairing: Jimmy/Krycek, Jimmy/Byers  
Rating: NC-17 for m/m erotic contact (consensual and otherwise), mind games, mild torture. Some slightly disturbing scenes, but any regular X Files viewer has seen *much* worse.  
Feedback: Yes please!  
Status: Complete  
Category: Drama, Romance, First Time  
Summary: Our favorite Lone Gunmen wannabe is kidnapped by Krycek.  
Archive: Basement, Lone Slasher; others ask.  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. All characters kidnapped from 1013 Productions.

I've been working on this since April and it's finally finished!  
I will be e-mailing the parts soon.  
Slowly.  
One by one.

* * *

[Wednesday evening]

No matter what Langly and Frohike claimed, Byers couldn't believe that the trip could have gone any worse if they'd taken Jimmy along. They'd botched things without his help -- just as they had many times in the old days before Jimmy -- and were coming home with no story whatsoever. It was nice to be home, at least, and Byers found himself looking forward to seeing Jimmy.

Despite Langly's dire predictions, there were no fire trucks parked outside HQ as they pulled into the alley, and no other evidence of disaster. "Think there's any chance he actually got last week's issue out without any snags?" Frohike asked. He'd been worrying aloud about that all the way back.

Strangely, no one answered the door, even though Jimmy's car was in the alley. Frohike fished his key out of his pocket and opened the three mechanical locks while Byers, pausing for a second to recall the code he'd only had a few chances to use, keyed in the combination to the new electronic lock. Everything was in order inside. Maybe too much order; apparently Jimmy had been tidying up to surprise them. Byers hoped that he hadn't thrown away any important hardcopies, but he was pretty sure everything was duplicated on disk.

"I don't think the look of this," Langly said, picking up a sheet of paper that had something attached with a paper clip. "Jimmy's check to the printer is here, with a note. You'd think he'd have gotten the issue at least printed."

"Did the check bounce?" Frohike asked. "What does the note say?" He went over and read over Langly's shoulder. "Oh no."

"What is it?" Byers asked, alarmed.

"You'd better take a look at this, man," Langly said in a suddenly subdued tone of voice.

The note was handwritten, in Jimmy's familiar handwriting. It rarely occurred to the other men to write a note longer than ten words by hand.

*  
Guys --

Got the papers mailed, no problems. I'll be out of town for a few days on a little mission of my own. This guy came by asking for help starting up a basketball team for one-armed teenagers. Says he knows a whole town full of them, some kind of industrial accident, and they just need someone to give them the modivation.

I know your always telling me I'm too trusting, but I know this guy is for real cause he has one arm himself, and how can you fake that. He'll take care of the travel expenses. Should only be a few days, but here's a check to cover printing the next issue just in case.

Hope its cool with you guys. Jimmy  
*

Byers sat carefully down on the nearest chair before his shaky knees gave out on him. He could clearly remember the graphic description he'd gotten, from Mulder a few years ago, of the Tunguska prison camp and its horrible medical experiments. For a long time after, he'd had nightmarish visions of his friend bound to a table under chicken wire, stripped to the waist, waiting for the alien black oil to pour over his face and invade his body through his eyes and mouth. And Mulder had been safely back at home by the time Byers had heard what had happened to him. Now it was Jimmy's helpless body he was picturing under that chicken wire -- and if he was unlucky enough to be in the control group that didn't get the vaccine, he would die a painful, lingering death. Either that, or become a prisoner in his own body as an alien presence used it for its own unfathomable evil purposes.

///////////////////////

[4 hours earlier, Wednesday afternoon]

Jimmy returned from the last of his errands and let himself into HQ. Working all the locks had become almost automatic by now. He especially enjoyed opening the latest addition to the lock collection, a cool new electronic gadget that used a secret code. He was getting really smooth at operating that one; he got it right on the third try, hardly even needing to glance at the numbers he'd inked on his hand.

As he entered, he noticed a small piece of paper lying on the floor. Strange. He thought he'd straightened everything up. He was sure he hadn't left anything on the floor, and he thought he'd put all the loose papers on the desks neatly in folders or paper-clipped together. Oh well. He scooped it up and tossed it in the "to shred" bin, barely glancing at it to make sure it had no important information on it.

He was looking forward to the guys getting back tonight. Meanwhile, though, he might as well make the most of his last day of having the place to himself. No matter how close he felt to his buddies, he still didn't feel comfortable doing stuff like this when they might hear him. He stripped to his boxers, and hunted around until he had everything he needed to have a little fun: a cold beer at the ready, for afterward; an old vinyl record with a good beat; his favorite shirt, which he put on and left mostly unbuttoned; and finally, his shades. Cranking the volume all the way up --the guys had installed really great speakers, which they rarely used, almost as if the music was beside the point once the fun of setting up the sound system was over -- he started with "Bad to the Bone", his favorite song for honing his skills on the air guitar. Breathing hard as the track ended, for a minute he thought he heard someone clearing his throat. He didn't remember that being on the CD. Must be his imagination. He played two more tracks, imagining an audience out there in the office. He couldn't see in the dimness with his sunglasses, and once he could almost believe he saw a shadow moving out there. By the end of the song there was a sheen of sweat on his chest and his muscles were getting sore from the contortions. Man, was he getting out of shape! He peeled the sweaty shirt off his back and grabbed the cold beer. It only tasted this good right after a good workout, whether athletic or musical.

Finally, he headed for the shower, stopping on the way to toss his shirt and boxers into the laundry pile. As he was able to step into the shower, he thought he caught a glimpse of a man in the mirror. Not his own reflection; he was looking at the mirror at an angle, and anyway the man had been dressed in dark clothing, so it couldn't have been him. He glanced over his shoulder, didn't see anyone, shrugged, and stepped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in fresh clothes, he was doing some last-minute filing, wanting HQ to be as neat and orderly as possible to surprise the guys when he came back. He just trying to make up his mind whether a folder labeled "In Progress" belonged under "I" or under "P" when he distinctly heard a man clear his throat impatiently behind him. He glanced back; there was indeed a guy standing behind him.

"I'll be with you in just a sec, sir," he said. Quickly coming to a decision, he decided that "In" was such a little word that it couldn't possibly count. He slid open the "PQR" drawer, which made a quiet click, and filed it in front of "Project Blue Book." Then he frowned, noting that someone had moved the big box-bottomed file on "Elvis" out of the "E" drawer. As he was wondering if he should fix that, he heard a sigh and a rustle behind him, which reminded him he was keeping someone waiting.

He turned to find a strikingly handsome man about his own age staring at him. He was just withdrawing his hand from his leather jacket, as though he'd put something away.

"What can I do for you?" The stranger was staring at him with a mixture of annoyance and amazement, so he added, "Sorry for keeping you waiting. My, um, partners will be back in a few hours. Is it something I can help you with?"

"I think so." He spoke in a deep, oddly tense voice, just above a whisper.

"How'd you get in here, by the way?" He slapped his forehead. "Oh, man, did I forget to lock the door again? The guys are gonna kill me! Please don't tell them, okay?"

The guy look insulted. "No," he growled. "The door was--" Then he seemed to change his mind about something, and smiled at Jimmy. "Tell you what," he said in a more normal tone of voice. "You don't tell them that I barged in without knocking, and I won't tell them you left the door unlocked."

"Thanks, buddy. It's deal." Jimmy squeezed the stranger's arm, just above the elbow. He was startled when he felt hard plastic under the leather sleeve, but quickly realized the guy must have a prosthetic arm. "Oops, sorry." He squeezed his other arm, and felt firm flesh and muscles. That was better. He grinned and patted the arm.

"That's it? No disgust? No pity?"

"So you lost an arm. Bummer. Are you used to people freaking out over it or something?"

"Well, some people do." Then he added shyly, "But the people who, uh, have the strongest feelings about me seem to treat me exactly the way they did before I lost it."

"And I'll bet that's just how you want it. That's how most of my blind buddies feel, anyway. You're just as good a person as you were before."

"Your blind buddies..."

"From back in Long Island. I organized a football team for blind guys. Sonar, balls that beeped..." He babbled on happily for a few minutes, waxing enthusiastic about two of his favorite subjects, technology and football, and almost getting lost in the happy memories. He really missed his team, but right after losing them he'd gained something he'd been looking for all his life.

Finally the guy interrupted him. "Actually, I know all about that. That's why I came to you. You're Jimmy Bond, right?"

"You're here to talk to *me*?" Jimmy was used to people coming to the Lone Gunmen for help, and he was lucky if he even got included as one of them in anyone's mind. He'd finally come to understand what it must feel like for guys who got picked last for the football team in school. "I figured it had something to do with the paper. Oh... I see! You want information about getting involved in sports? Finding a team that'll take you?" He frowned in concentration, trying to think of something helpful. "I hate to say it, but as far as I know--"

"Actually, it's not for me. See, I know of a place that has dozens and dozens of guys who've all had an arm amputated. There was an industrial accident a few years ago, right next to a high school -- covered up by the government, of course."

"Oh, yeah, you'd be surprised at how often that happens," Jimmy assured him, proud of his worldly knowledge. "So... these are all young guys, probably still in good shape?"

"They're all around eighteen now, in their senior year. All in really fine shape. And some of them are a lot taller than me."

"Hey! They'd be naturals for basketball!"

"Great idea! I'd been thinking baseball."

"Well, maybe baseball would work. I'd have to give it some thought."

"No, no, basketball sounds like an even better idea."

"And the nice thing is, it doesn't take a lot of investment in equipment. I'm kinda broke right now--"

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to pay for any of it!"

"You don't have some big anonymous sponsor, do you? Because if I were you, I'd check them out first," he advised. "I almost got burned real bad--"

"No, it's just me. I saved up some money, and I've got disability payments. I can't pay you, but I can cover your travel expenses. And I can certainly spring for a basketball or two. We can do without uniforms. We can play in the school gym, or a park if we had to."

"Sounds like you've got it all thought out. When is all this gonna happen?"

"Right away would be good. There isn't much of summer vacation left. But we'd only need you fulltime for a few days to get the ball rolling and give them a pep talk. You can train me to take over from you as coach. Unless this is a bad time?"

"Things are pretty slow right now, as far as I know. But let me check with the guys and see if they can spare me for a few days. I can't just leave town without asking them."

"Why? Are they paying you a salary?"

"No," Jimmy said with a smile, "But I've kinda got a commitment to them."

"What kind? A legal commitment?"

"No, nothing like that. We're just a team, that's all. They'll be back sometime tonight. I can ask 'em then."

"Oh. I was counting on heading back this afternoon. I'm still checked into a motel room a couple of hours from here, and I've still got all my stuff there. In fact, I'd really like to get going before the traffic gets heavy. Is there any chance I could get you to come with me right away? Like in the next hour?"

"Well, they've all got cell phones. If they don't mind, I guess I could go right away." Lately he was getting used to packing up on short notice and driving all around the country. He went to the wall phone.

"Wait! Why don't you just write--"

"Damn. No dial tone." He held down the button in case it had been left off the hook, but that didn't help. "They must be out of cell phone range."

"Uh, yeah. Right. Your friends must go to a lot of areas with no coverage."

"They sure do! One time they were at the bottom of this military silo..."

"Oh, yeah, tell me about it! The coverage is terrible there! Just when you need it most! I hate that."

Jimmy realized the guy must be teasing him, and smiled sheepishly. Then he turned serious. "Look, I really want to help you, but I have to wait 'til I can reach the guys. Can you give me your number and I'll call you tonight? Maybe I can join you at that motel."

The guy hung his head. "I understand," he said, sounding miserable. "You're letting me down easy. You're not going to help us, are you?"

"No, really, that's not it." Jimmy put his hand on his shoulder. "I just can't leave right away, without asking my partners and telling them where I'm going."

"I know when I'm being turned down. It's happened often enough. Maybe I should give up on this whole idea. It was a lost cause from the beginning. Poor kids."

"No, don't give up! I swear I'll help you as soon as I can get away."

"School's just starting up. This is the right time to get them interested in something new. They'll be picking colleges soon. I was hoping we could get them hooked on this idea soon enough that they'll all decide to go to the same college, so they can stay together as a team."

"You know what? You don't even need me. You can do this all on your own. You've got the drive!" Jimmy squeezed the guy's good arm again.

"They don't believe me when I say they can do it. They're afraid to try. They're so self-conscious about their amputated arms that they don't want to uncover them even in front of each other."

"In the locker room?"

"Right. And basketball? Tank tops? I'll never convince them."

"Sure you can. What's the big deal?"

"I wouldn't even feel comfortable, myself, in a tank top. How can I convince the kids?"

"Do people really react that badly?"

"I don't know. I've never shown anyone my stump."

"Never? So you haven't..." That must put a real crimp in the poor guy's love life. "C'mon, how bad can it be?"

"Easy for you to say."

"Well, let me see."

"What?"

"You're gonna be changing out of your street clothes in the gym too, right? Even as assistant coach. There's no point in asking me to be your coach if you're gonna be too shy to take your shirt off in front of me."

The guy looked trapped. "All right," he finally said. He unzipped his leather jacket. "But don't watch, okay? It makes me nervous."

Jimmy turned his back and walked into the kitchen area. "Want a beer?" he called without looking back.

"Um... No thanks. Give me a few minutes. It takes me a lot longer to undress than when I had two arms."

"Take your time." Jimmy heard rustling sounds and lots of sounds of Velcro ripping. He heard a thunk, like a long plastic object being set down. The prosthetic arm, probably. Then a more a metallic-sounding thump. The arm again, or maybe the guy had a cell phone hidden under his jacket, like almost everyone else these days.

After making sure he was ready, Jimmy came back. He found the guy standing there nervously, bare to the waist, his chest gleaming with sweat. "Hey!" he said, liking what he saw "Are your boys all in as good shape as you are?"

"Pretty gross, isn't it," the guy asked, waving his stump.

"Oh, that? I wouldn't worry about it." His gaze returned to the guy's torso. He obviously kept very active.

"You don't think people will freak out?" He looked like he was feeling exposed and vulnerable. He obviously wasn't used to this. He was breathing a little hard, and when Jimmy stepped close to him his eyes flicked briefly to his carefully arranged pile of clothing as if he wanted to dive for it. It wasn't unusual for guys to be edgy when Jimmy towered over them, but Jimmy thought he'd already established a bond of trust with this fellow. Must be the arm issue. This would be a new challenge for Jimmy. The guys on his blind football team had been totally unselfconscious in the locker room, kind of a refreshing change, with all the unwritten rules about when and where and how long you could look at somebody's body suspended.

He tried to reassure him. "Who's gonna see them while they're practicing, except each other? And by the time you've got a bunch of fans filling the bleachers, we'll think of some kind of custom uniform that will cover it, if they're still worried about it by then. One step at a time."

"Could you come with me and tell them that? I think it would really help them get over their fears, if we lined them all up like this. Sort of like inspecting the new troops. When they see that you're not horrified, it will give them the confidence they need."

Jimmy pictured a long row of shirtless young athletes lined up for his inspection. He felt a rising excitement. "This could really work!" he said, squeezing both of the man's bare shoulders. Man, but the guy was tense! "Relax," he said, kneading gently. "We're gonna be working together."

"I'm just worried about the traffic. It's getting late."

"Let's get going, then!" He slapped him on the chest. "This is gonna be great!"

The guy looked enormously relieved to be able to go back over to his pile of clothing, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to put them on or even pick up the first piece of clothing while Jimmy was watching. Some guys had strange kinds of modesty, but Jimmy had been in locker rooms with so many hundreds of guys over the years -- and now in that prison with Byers, to top it off -- that nothing surprised him anymore.

It didn't take Jimmy long to pack. The guys had taught him to always keep an overnight bag packed and ready to go. He tried the wall phone once more, but was still unable to reach the guys' cell phones or even get a dial tone.

"I hate to go without telling my friends."

"Leave them a note. Tell them everything I've told you. I'm sure they'll understand."

///////////////////////

[Wednesday evening]

Byers wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, imagining Jimmy's fate at the hands of the men Krycek would deliver him to. Long enough for Langly to discover that their phone line had been cut from outside, like in an old thriller. Network connection too. (He was vaguely aware of Langly grumbling about having to put up with wireless network connection speeds in his own home.) Long enough for Frohike to finish splicing the cables.

"Byers!" Frohike said, startling him out of his mental horror show. "Did you see what Langly found?"

Byers peered at a screen of text Frohike was pointing to, without really seeing it.

"You okay, buddy?" Frohike asked.

"Fine."

"We'll get him out of this. Don't worry."

"It boards in less than an hour," Langly said. "We'd better head to the airport now and head them off."

Pulling himself together, Byers forced himself to read what was in front of him. It was a record taken from the airline reservation system, showing tickets issued today for two seats on a flight to Vladivostok. The passenger names were "Alvin Koatcek" and "Jimmy Hoffa."

"Let's go, Byers. If we take the time to erase their e-tickets, we'll never get there on time, and Krycek will have a hardcopy receipt with him and talk his way through it."

"Wait. 'Koatcek'? 'Jimmy Hoffa'?"

"You didn't expect it to be under their real names, did you?" Langly said impatiently. "He knew we'd find it in a second."

"Instead, you found it in ten seconds. There's only one flight a day to Vladivostok. The names jumped out at you, didn't they?"

"Well, yeah."

"Krycek knew we would check airline bookings. If he wanted to make it hard for us, he's clever enough to have booked the segment to Toronto separately from the connecting flights to Russia, and used two different sets of fake names. He wanted us to find this. In fact, he wanted us to know he wanted us to find it. Why else use such obvious aliases?" He was typing as he spoke.

"Why use aliases at all, then?"

"The FBI computers are set up to scan for Krycek's name, remember? Last we checked, anyway. Oh no!"

"What?" Langly and Frohike said, walking back over to stand behind him.

Buried among the usual arcane fare restrictions was a comments field meant to be used by travel agents or the airlines. But this one said: "66.54.11.104/jb/knap -- PSWD NEWSPAPER INITIALS"

They exchanged surprised glances. "You trace the routing," Byers told Langly. "I'll try DNS."

"It looks like the somewhere in Switzerland," Langly said after sending packets to it from a few locations.

"I can't find a domain name for it."

"What a surprise," Frohike put in. "I think we're its only customers."

"Did you find out anything else, Langly?"

"It's running a server on port 80. No other servers. Standard HTTP, no SSL."

"What type of server?"

"All-patchy."

"You know about the new security hole in Apache that was reported on the newsgroups a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, I've already added it to my usual script that tries all the known vulnerabilities. Let's see. Nope, it looks pretty air tight."

"I don't think we'd find anything useful on this machine, anyway," Byers admitted. If Jimmy were here now, he thought, it would be at about this time that he snapped his fingers and said "I'll bet it's a web address. Only, it doesn't end in dot com." God, he missed the guy! He even missed his most bone-headed suggestions. They never bothered him as much as they did Langly. Jimmy *tried* so hard, and he was so *enthusiastic* about technology. He wasn't as annoying to Byers as people who were willfully ignorant. Even worse were the ones who decided that anything they didn't understand must be useless and boring, and that the people who did understand it were pitiful geeks just for possessing the knowledge.

There was little left to try but the same thing even Jimmy would have figured out by now. They used a commercial browser, through their usual proxy, and viewed the web page. It had some text, and a large image, which filled itself in top to bottom, a little slowly since they were still using a wireless connection.

Jimmy's face was one of the first things Byers saw as the picture filled in. He didn't look happy, but at least his eyes were open and he hadn't been beaten. He was lying on a bed. His shirt had been removed, and the words "KRYCEK'S HOSTAGE" were scrawled across his chest in black block letters. His arms were raised over his head. The picture stopped drawing just below his navel, leaving to Byers's imagination whether his captor had stripped him only to the waist. There was another picture below it, from a different angle, showing that his hands were handcuffed to the headboard.

It bothered Byers that the Krycek and his cohorts hadn't even bothered to set up an encrypted site, when they obviously had enough know-how to assign themselves an unregistered certificate. The packets were traveling through ten hops around the world, in the clear, before they reached their proxy site! The image of his friend lying helpless in Krycek's power was wide open to view -- and not only to a whole alphabet soup of government agencies and at least three nosy corporations, but to hundreds of individual crackers who were potentially spying on network traffic. Many of them knew Byers, and some, such as Kimmy, had met Jimmy. Krycek might as well be marching him naked through the halls of a hacker's convention, labeled as his property. Byers felt humiliated on his friend's behalf.

He forced his eyes to the text above and below the picture. It gave no terms for Jimmy's release, but demanded a meeting. It gave detailed instructions. The meeting would be at a certain spot on a certain public beach. Byers was to come alone. He was to bring no recording devices or weapons, and wear nothing but swimming trunks. He was to lay out his towel a little distance from the nearest beach-goers, within sight but out of earshot of them.

"What do you think. A fake?" Frohike asked.

"Hard to tell at screen resolution," Langly said. "But Jimmy's a big man. It's hard to imagine a one-armed man wrestling him to the ground and tying him up."

"He could have hit him over the head when he turned his back," Byers said. He couldn't believe they were wasting time debating this. Yes, any of them could have faked the picture -- at least added the writing on his chest --in ten minutes with one hand tied behind his back. Maybe Krycek could too. But if there was even the slightest chance Jimmy was in trouble...

"C'mon," Langly scoffed. "You think he carried him out the door, then stuffed him into a car one-handed without anyone stopping him?"

"More likely he pulled a gun on him," Byers said. If so, he was glad that Jimmy hadn't tried anything stupid. At least he was still alive, and there was still some hope.

"I suppose it's possible," Frohike said. "But there's no real proof."

"Anyone could have faked the writing in ten seconds," Langly said. With a few mouse clicks, he copied the image into a photo-retouching program and zoomed in. Byers watched as Langly painted in a black question mark after the word "HOSTAGE" and zoomed out.

Byers forced himself to inspect it technically. The sight of Langly writing on Jimmy's chest, even on a screen, was causing some very inappropriate stirrings, and not just emotional ones. He was ashamed to find his body reacting that way at a time like this. Jimmy must be feeling humiliated --and if he had any sense, terrified. His throat dry, he said, "It does look pretty convincing. You got the perspective right on the first try. I suppose in theory the writing could be a fake."

"The picture itself would be harder to fake," Langly admitted. "It does look like it's probably Jimmy."

"It's Jimmy, all right," Byers said firmly. Was he the only observant one around here? He was absolutely sure of it; every detail matched his memory. But maybe Krycek had tricked Jimmy into take his shirt off on some pretext. But his stomach muscles did look like he was really lying down, and his pectorals and all the muscles in his arm were consistent with his arms being stretched over his head. The handcuffs could be a fake, but Byers was having trouble imagining how Krycek would have convinced him to get into that position. Maybe they were staying the night in a motel room, and Jimmy just happened to stretch? No, that was wishful thinking. Krycek really did have his friend at his mercy.

"We could run it through a 3d modeler and see if the lettering matches between the two pictures," Langly suggested.

"What good will that do?" Byers demanded. "Krycek could have used the same program to get the placement right. It's ten times easier than the reverse."

They argued for an hour. The plane left on schedule, and the ticket, at least, did turn out to be a decoy; the two passengers never boarded. After a late dinner that Byers had no appetite for, they spent a few fruitless hours trying to reconstruct what had happened. Frohike tried to recover the security camera recording, but someone had jammed its wireless signal to the video tape. Langly looked for clues on the net and came up with nothing. Byers himself looked for physical evidence inside HQ. He found an odd note in the "to shred" box that said "No point in looking backwards" in a handwriting that wasn't Jimmy's, and wasted some time trying to locate a sample of Alex Krycek's handwriting.

Finally, Frohike pointed out that it was 3am and they'd had a long day on the road, and that there was still no real evidence that Jimmy needed their help. Langly took the hint, but Byers stayed up for an hour after his partners were asleep, until he finally admitted that he was getting nowhere and would do better after a good night's sleep. What he got was a few hours of fitful tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares in which Jimmy was stretched out naked on a torture rack while Krycek did unspeakable things to him.

///////////////////////

[Wednesday evening]

Jimmy woke slowly, smiling at confused but pleasant memories of staggering home so drunk that a buddy had to support him, even unlock the door for him and help him get undressed for bed. Funny, he rarely got drunk, and he sure didn't remember going out drinking last night. The last thing he remembered was having lunch at a roadside diner with his new friend, the one who wanted to start a one-armed basketball team. Alex; that was his name. His memory of the beginning of the meal was clear enough. The guy had been very pleasant company, although he'd teased him gently about reading the supermarket tabloid he'd found abandoned on another table on the way back from the men's room. "Hey, this stuff really does happen," he remembered saying. "Take this for example: 'Aliens Experiment on Single Mom's Unborn Fetus.' That actually happened to a friend of a friend of mine." Alex had laughed at that, but so had everyone else he'd ever mentioned it to. At least Alex had been friendly about his disbelief. A few minutes later Jimmy had tried again. "This one here: 'Man Buried Alive for Two Weeks Is In Perfect Health'? I tell you, two weeks is nothing!"

He did remembered digging into his main course, but not finishing it, and he didn't remember who had picked up the check. He wouldn't have let Alex pay without a fight, would he? He had a feeling he'd left the diner already drunk, but he didn't remember even having a beer with his meal.

Slowly, as he struggled out of sleep, he realized that his arms were raised over his head and handcuffed. He opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in what looked like it might be a cheap motel room. He was shirtless and barefoot, lying on top of the crisp sheets. His wallet was on the nightstand, with its contents -- not just money and credit cards, but pictures of his team and of the Lone Gunmen -- removed and spread out for examination. There was another bed beside it, still neatly made. Alex was sitting at the desk.

"Alex? What gives?"

"Hey. You're awake. How do you feel?" He walked over to the bed.

"Not very hung over. Was I drinking?"

Alex looked down at him in astonishment. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Was I in some kind of accident?"

His mouth twisted. "Guess again." He was back to the low, dangerous whisper he'd first used back at Headquarters.

"Someone has taken us prisoner?" Jimmy asked almost eagerly.

"You're getting warmer."

"Uh..." He didn't want to believe it of Alex, but this was looking like some kind of spy movie, like the ones his parents used to watch. Kinda cool in a way. No one had ever wanted to kidnap him until he met the Lone Gunmen, but the minute he'd fallen in with them he'd started having all kinds of dangerous adventures. None quite like this, though. "Let's see. You're really a foreign spy, and you've kidnapped me to get secrets out of me?" He felt a mixture of fear and excitement at the thought.

"Hey, very close! You're smarter than you look," Alex said, patting his belly almost affectionately. He didn't say it in a particularly nasty tone. Not like Langly, who Jimmy liked to think was his friend.

"W-why did you take my shirt off?"

His captor didn't answer.

"Oh, man. Are you gonna torture me?" Jimmy had never had to stand up to being tortured like the heroes in the movies. He liked to think he could take a lot of it and never crack, but he wasn't sure about that. Looked like he might have the chance to find out.

"Not right now. We'll see about that later."

"What are you gonna do with me, then?"

"Can I get you anything? Water, maybe?"

"I'm a little thirsty, thanks."

His captor grabbed a travel mug and a straw and went into the bathroom to fill it. He held the straw to Jimmy's lips, and Jimmy drained about half of it. "Thanks, that's enough."

"Let me know when you want more. I've learned it's bad karma to mistreat my prisoners." He went to the desk and came back with a grease pencil. To Jimmy's surprise, he started writing right on Jimmy's chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Haven't you ever used a laundry marker to put your name on your gym shorts? I'm marking you as my property."

This wasn't the way spies behaved in movies. They were usually perfect gentlemen. This was a little more like what insane costumed super-villains did to super-heros after dousing them with kryptonite or whatever. Usually even *they* weren't that sick. Jimmy kicked himself; he knew the guys would never have trusted a stranger the way he did. He'd just assumed that he could always take care of himself, if his trust turned out to be misplaced. It had never occurred to him that he had anything to worry about from a one-armed man.

Jimmy peered at the message Alex had written across his chest. "Is that your real name? 'Skecyrk'?"

"'Sceckirk'? Oh." Alex laughed. "That's 'Krycek.' See, it's 'K,' 'R,' Y', 'C,' 'E,' 'K,' apostrophe, 'S'." He traced the letters with his finger, which tickled slightly. "Alex Krycek. You can call me whatever you want. Oh, except don't call me 'Xela.'"

"Why would I call you 'Zella'?"

Krycek sighed and went to get something. Jimmy tensed, wondering if he was getting some kind of diabolical torture device, but it was only a camera. Jimmy didn't think there was any way you could torture someone with a camera, unless you counted endless slide shows of boring vacations or baby pictures.

Krycek aimed the camera at him. Jimmy realized he was going to take a picture of him chained helplessly to the bed, which was kinda humiliating. "Who's that for?" he demanded.

"Say 'thumbscrew,'" Krycek said cheerfully, and snapped a photo. He looked at it critically as it developed. "You don't look scared enough. Let's try again. Say 'torture rack.'" He frowned when that one developed too. "Maybe I should dump a bucket of ice down your pants. That'll make it look like you're in pain."

"You wouldn't!" Jimmy said defiantly.

Krycek snapped another picture. "Don't make me do it," he said as he waited for it to develop. "OK, this one will do. For now."

Jimmy glumly stared at his new markings while Krycek rumaged around and produced a white plastic bottle. Krycek spent a minute or two trying to get the cap off one-handed. Finally he thrust the top into Jimmy's hand and ordered him to open it. Awkwardly, Jimmy twisted it until the seal broke, and unscrewed the top as Krycek held the bottle.

"Not bad. I should take you home and chain you up in my kitchen. I could use a slave to open bottles and jars for me."

"I'd take up too much counter space. Maybe you can get my friends to invent some kind of jar-opening machine for you. You can trade me for it."

The bottle turned out to contain rubbing alchohol. Krycek wet a washcloth with it and scrubbed vigorously at Jimmy's chest, cleaning it of the grease pencil markings.

Jimmy felt a glimmer of hope when he saw Krycek put one of the pictures into what must be a portable scanner and open up a laptop computer. If there was a computer in the room, there was a good chance of rescue. It was like having a potted plant in the room if your best friend was Swamp Thing.

///////////////////////

[Wednesday night]

"We may have a long wait ahead of us. I guess I should get all the information I can out of you."

Jimmy's heart raced. He wondered what kind of torture Krycek would use first.

"So. You ticklish?"

That wasn't what he'd expected. At least it wouldn't hurt. But he felt suddenly very vulnerable. His armpits were exposed and in easy reach of Krycek, and there wasn't a thing Jimmy could do about it.

Krycek reached out and lightly swirled the hairs in the armpit that was closer to him. Jimmy squirmed, and said, "What do you want to know?"

"What's the code you use to unlock your door?"

"You're not gonna make me talk." Jimmy managed to keep silent for a few minutes, except when an involuntary laugh escaped his lips, but Krycek's light tickling was becoming unbearable. "They've probably ... changed it by now," he finally gasped.

"Tell me anyway," Krycek whispered dangerously, running his fingers lightly down Jimmy's ribs. He waited a moment, then suddenly attacked the armpit with all his fingers. Jimmy threw back his head and laughed.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "It's written... on my hand," he blurted. His lungs were getting sore, like he'd run a few miles.

Krycek barely glanced at it. "It's too blurry to read. Tell me the code." He dug into Jimmy's ribs.

"I... I can't remember." He really couldn't, not now. But at Krycek's insistence, he gasped out a few guesses.

After about then fifth try, Krycek said, "Close enough," and stopped his torment.

///////////////////////

[Thursday morning]

Breakfast was quiet, as it was even under normal circumstances. Langly and Frohike had their faces buried in newspapers as usual, doing their daily scan for hints of new conspiracies to uncover. Byers picked at his soggy cold cerial, craving pancakes. Jimmy had worked so hard at being a good cook, as though trying to find any way he could to contribute to the cause. He was always there to pitch in when furniture and equipment needed to be moved, which was truly useful since he had no trouble hefting the largest CRTs. (A harrowing thing to watch, but he hadn't dropped one yet. Just the van.) Once or twice a week, he had treated them to pancakes. Byers had noticed how disappointed the poor guy was when his friends, intent on their reading, barely seemed to notice what they were eating. Byers *could* have tried to show his appreciation. And now it might be too late.

"Any clues?" he asked. Might as well give them the benefit of a doubt.

"Clues?" asked Langly blankly.

"He means about Jimmy's whereabouts," Frohike told him.

"Oh! Right. Of course, I was, uh, so busy looking for clues I wasn't..." Langly didn't bother to finish. Byers had known him for far too long to be fooled so easily, and when their eyes met he could tell that Langly could tell that could he tell that he was lying.

"Be sure to watch for stories about stranded motorists having their cars rolled into ditches by helpful passers-by," Frohike suggested.

"Don't you think those papers might be a little out of date to have anything useful?" Byers asked mildly.

"You still think the picture was real?" Frohike asked him soberly.

"We have to assume it was. Jimmy clearly went with him How else do you explain the note he left? And if he's with Krycek, he's obviously in danger."

"I'll get online right now," Langly said. "Just in case." Byers shot him a grateful look. He caught it, but if anything looked more guilty, adding loudly as he headed for the computers, "Yeah, nothing like coffee and a good breakfast to get the brain in gear."

///////////////////////

[Thursday morning]

Jimmy cursed himself for being gullible enough to get himself into this position. However cool it might have seemed at first to find himself held captive by a real spy, the reality was beginning to sink in. He was in deep trouble. Even though he didn't think Krycek would kill him, he wasn't sure what he was planning to do with him. At the very least, he might hold him prisoner indefinitely. The motel room was already making him feel claustrophobic. Jimmy was an outdoors kind of guy by preference. These days, spending time with his geeky friends sometimes meant being cooped up inside more than he would like. But that was by choice, and the privilege of working with those guys made it well worth it. He understood now exactly what Simon had meant about the whole world being a cage when you were alone. Jimmy had been in jail with his friends, and that'd been no big deal. Once he had even been locked up in a maximum security prison, and that had been bad, but not as bad as this. Not as long as Byers had been there in the next cell, and they could at least talk to each other. In fact, that hadn't been half as bad a couple of times he himself had been safe, but was convinced all three of his friends had been killed and that he'd have to go on alone. Yeah, freedom alone definitely sucked worse than captivity with his friends. But captivity by himself was going to be pure hell.

Going with Krycek was the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Well, recently, anyway. Accepting all that money from fake anonymous donors to set up his blind football team was probably stupider. Having to tell those men that there was no league, and that the team would have to disband now that the money had evaporated, was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He'd built up his men's dreams only to shatter them, because of his gullibility, and he hated himself for it. And now he'd done something even worse. The guys would be worried about him, especially Byers. He was sure that they'd try to rescue him, even if it meant risking their own lives. He was reluctant to admit it to himself, but he was going to have to swallow his pride and try to get help from any strangers who might be in earshot. There must be other people in this motel.

"Help!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Help! I'm being held--"

Krycek reacted quickly, stuffing a washcloth into his mouth. He shook his head sadly. "I guess you had to try that once, didn't you. It's not going to do you any good. The walls have pretty good soundproofing. Besides, there's only one room next to this one, and I rented that too. But I can't take chances, so I'll have to teach you what happens when you do that."

He reached for Jimmy's belt buckle. Jimmy squirmed, but Krycek deftly undid the buckle with one hand. He then laid his hand on Jimmy's stomach and said, "The more you struggle, the worse this going to be."

Jimmy lay still, breathing hard through the washcloth. This was it. Krycek was gonna hurt him.

Krycek pulled at the belt, and Jimmy felt it slide around his waist and come free. "Roll over," Krycek said quietly. When Jimmy didn't move, he repeated the order. This time, when Jimmy didn't obey instantly, he slapped the belt across his chest like a whip. It stung like anything. Then he held it ready again, this time over Jimmy's belly. "Roll over," he whispered in a dangerous tone.

Jimmy obeyed. The chains had just enough slack to let him cross his arms and place his head between them, although it wasn't a comfortable position. He soon forgot about that as pain lashed across his back. He was still recovering from that when it was repeated. He bit down hard on the washcloth and steeled himself for the next lash. Just as he decided it wasn't coming, it did, harder than before. Then again. Then a long pause, just enough for him to hope Krycek was done, and then yet another lash. He wanted to try to spit out the washcloth and plead for him to stop, but he was afraid that his grunts -- okay, screams -- would make Krycek punish him even more, if he didn't have the washcloth to muffle them.

After six lashes criss-crossing his back, Krycek stopped for a long time. Jimmy's back throbbed for a while, then slowly started to feel a little better. He thought he'd heard the belt hit the carpet, and began to hope the punishment was over.

Suddenly, something seemed to burn a hole into his back, like acid was being poured over it. He screamed into the washcloth.

"Have I made my point?" Krycek asked.

Jimmy nodded, his face buried in a pillow. Krycek had made his point very well -- that he could do anything he wanted to Jimmy, and there wasn't a thing Jimmy could do about it.

"That was just the isopropyl alcohol, in case you were wondering. Are you going to cooperate now?"

Jimmy nodded again.

"If you so much as raise your voice again, or make any attempt to escape, I'm going to whip you until you're bloody, and then pour this whole damn bottle over you. Do you understand?"

Jimmy nodded miserably, his back still burning.

Krycek stood up, and Jimmy heard water running, and some rustling as Krycek got out whatever torture device he planned to use on him next. But he just felt a cool washcloth gently patting his back, easing the burning. Then a hand smeared some wonderfully cooling gel stuff over his back, and the pain immediately began to dull.

The hand touched his shoulder. "Stick to that agreement, and do everything I say, and we won't need to do this shit anymore, okay?" Jimmy nodded again, and the hand squeezed his shoulder.

He felt a towel laid across his back. "You can roll over again now," Krycek said gently.

Krycek removed the washcloth from his mouth, and let him rest while he did something at the desk involving a palmtop computer and a little bottle like he'd seen in the hospital. The pain in his back slowly faded to nothing.

If he ever got loose, Jimmy told himself, he was going to rip Krycek's shirt off and show him what it felt like to be lashed across the back with Jimmy's belt. But he knew what would happen if he made any threats now, while he was tied up and at Krycek's mercy.

///////////////////////

[Thursday morning]

Jimmy tensed when he saw Krycek open the bottle of rubbing alcohol again.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to give you an injection," Krycek said. He dabbed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on the inside of his elbow. "Try to relax your arm."

The needle slipped in painlessly. Krycek seemed to know what he was doing. Jimmy was obviously the prisoner of an accomplished enemy agent, just like in the movies.

"I'll bet I know what that is. It's pentium sodathal, isn't it? Ow!"

"Sorry," Krycek said, his voice oddly strained. "I didn't mean that to hurt. It's just..." and he broke up laughing. "You shouldn't make someone laugh when he's in the middle of..." and he lost it again. He managed to get the needle out without doing too much damage, and set the empty hypo down on the nightstand to wipe tears from his eyes.

///////////////////////

[Thursday afternoon]

"What have you got?" Byers asked eagerly. He'd heard Frohike and Langly congratulating each other over some kind of breakthrough and came to look over their shoulders.

"Sorry, buddy, didn't mean to get your hopes up," Frohike said. "It's not good news."

"We managed to get the Goodyear blimp to give us a good picture of Jimmy's seats in E-com-Net Stadium," Langly explained. "Sure enough, they're empty."

That must mean there was a Ravens game today. Was it football season already? He knew that Jimmy had bought season tickets for the second year in a row. Last year he'd gone to all the home games, except when he was out of town breaking into Death Row and so forth. Frohike pointed at one of the bright purple spots in a sea of random colors, then zoomed in on four empty purple seats.

"I suppose that rules out stealing his stadium seats as a motive for the kidnapping," Byers said dryly.

Despite his quiet tone of voice, Frohike and Langly both looked as if he'd slapped them. "We're just trying to check out every possibility," Langly said in a small voice. "It was a long shot, but this was an easy place to check. We've looked everywhere."

"I'm sorry. I'm really on edge over this. I know you're doing your best." Trying to give them a chance to brag a little to make them feel better, he asked, "How did you find his seat?"

"The seat numbers were easy, of course," Langly said.

"There's an online seat map on the web," Frohike explained, "but just to double check, we looked at some archived footage the internal stadium cameras. They've got some state of the art equipment, let me tell you! Highest tech football stadium in the country." He flipped through some still pictures, blown up to just a handful of fuzzed-out figures, but Byers had no trouble recognizing his friend's familiar face. Each picture definitely showed Jimmy, wearing various shirts on different days.

Byers noticed that there was always an empty seat on his left and two empty seats on his right. "You said seat 'numbers,' didn't you," he said slowly.

"Yeah, he bought four season tickets for some reason," Langly said. "Last year, and this year again."

"He kept asking us to go with him," Byers recalled softly. "We never did."

"Yeah, total waste of money," Langly said. "He should have saved it for the printers. Or his car payments."

"I meant to go with him to at least one game, someday," Byers whispered.

"It always seemed like there was plenty of time, didn't there?" Frohike said understandingly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Frohike was the last one Byers could imagine accepting Jimmy's invitation, but at least he understood Byers's feelings of guilt. Come to think of it, Frohike had gone to a lot of Orioles games with Mulder this past summer. At least with Mulder there had been a second chance.

//////////////////

[Friday morning]

The overnight package had an obviously false return address, and the sender name was Koatcek. Unless Krycek had flown Jimmy to Kansas City, he'd either altered the tracking records or sent it there by air cargo to be dropped off near the sorting facility. Either way, he'd been careful to reveal nothing about his true whereabouts.

Byers didn't want to think about what might be in that package. He wasn't a religious man, or he would pray with all his heart for God not to let it be what he was afraid it might be. But he knew perfectly well that if there was any kind of god in control of the universe he lived in, it was a god who regularly allowed such gruesome things to happen.

The package was too small to contain a human head, at least, but it was big enough for anything from a heart down to -- Byers tried not to think about it.

"What do you think?" Langly asked him after Frohike finished running the bomb sniffer over the package and brought it inside. They tried to make a practice of using the bomb sniffer and Geiger counter on all packages they received, and if they felt like being especially careful they had a glove box to open packages they suspected of containing biological threats. Byers suspected none of this was necessary in this case, but he hadn't said anything as Frohike had done the routine checks. It was a welcome excuse to put off having to open the package.

"I don't think Krycek is sending us anything dangerous, if that's what you're afraid of," Byers finally answered.

"What else, then?" Langly asked. "He's not exactly going to send us a nice present."

"Not a *nice* present, no," Byers agreed quietly.

Langly gave him a puzzled look. Then his eyes widened and he covered his mouth and sprinted for the bathroom.

"Let's get this over with," Frohike said grimly, as retching sounds were heard from the bathroom. "Want me to open it, buddy?"

Byers nodded numbly. He forced himself to watch Frohike cut the tape, open the flaps, and start removing wads of newspaper. Mostly tabloids, judging from the fragments of headlines screaming out from them. Byers caught a glimpse of "...Stole My Organs..." and shuddered. At least there were no blood stains on the papers, he told himself. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

Finally Frohike pulled a small, unlabeled glass jar out of the box. He dug through the rest of the packing material, but failed to turn up anything more alarming.

The jar contained a highly viscous white fluid. Frohike raised his eyebrows, then took it over to the microscope. Byers went to check on Langly and tell him it didn't seem to be anything as horrible as he was imagining. When they got back, Frohike had already prepared a slide and was studying it under the microscope. "Yeah, it's just what it looks like," he said, looking up.

Langly and Byers exchanged puzzled glances. "What does it look like?" Langly asked Frohike, peering at the jar. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Sheesh, Langly! I knew you were a virgin, but don't tell me you've never..." He let his voice trail off, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh!" Langly and Byers said simultaneously.

Byers sat down. He couldn't believe Jimmy had cooperated in collecting this... sample. Somehow Krycek had forced him. Milked him. He pictured, over and over, what must have happened. The humiliation that implied, and the casual way Krycek had sent it to them unlabeled, made Byers furious.

Finally, he became aware that Langly and Frohike had been working with other lab equipment for some time and were quietly discussing their findings. "Dead less than twelve hours," Langly was saying.

"What?!" Byers said, snapping back to reality. "Dead? How can you tell?"

"Because they're not moving, for starters," Langly said. "You know, little tails swishing? Looking for some huge, round, ripe ovum?"

The cells. He was talking about the individual sperm cells.

"Are they Jimmy's?"

"Haven't you been paying attention?" Langly asked.

"Langly," Frokhike said quietly, "can't you see he's upset?" To Byers, he said, "They're definitely Jimmy's. We compared the DNA to a strand of his hair from the shower."

"I keep telling him to clean those up," Langly griped.

"Yeah, right," Frohike said. "Do you know how many long blond hairs I had to dig through to find one short one?"

"Guys," Byers sighed.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Frohike said. "You were right. While we were arguing about whether the picture was real, Krycek was doing god-knows-what to Jimmy."

"Yeah," Langly said softly. "The package could have been--" he paused, looking sick, "something much worse. I'm sorry too, man. What more can we say?"

"Don't say it to me," Byers said. "Save it to say to Jimmy, when we get him back." He stood up to head for his room, wanting to be alone for awhile. "By the way," he added absently, "it's a myth that all sperm cells are trying to fertilize the ovum. A good percentage of them are blockers, chemically triggered to swim toward another man's sperm."

///////////////////////

[Previous day (Thursday), around noon]

Krycek went online for about the tenth time; Jimmy could hear the modem. He looked grim when he closed the laptop.

"Bad news, Jimmy. Your friends haven't agreed to a meeting yet. It's been the better part of a day since they found the pictures of you I put on the web."

"Oh, man! You put those pictures on the web?"

"Only for your friends to see. For now. Looks like they need something a little more substantial." He fingered the button on Jimmy's jeans. Jimmy squirmed, but Krycek deftly unbuttoned it, one-handed. He must have a lot of practice with his own clothes. As if reading his mind, Krycek muttered, "Damn these button flies. It's getting hard to find jeans with zippers these days. Oh well, no hurry." He undid the remaining buttons, one by one, as Jimmy wondered what was coming next. Was he planning on some nude pictures now?

"Why are you doing this to me?" Jimmy asked plaintively as Krycek began tugging his jeans down.

"Because I can."

Sure enough, he took another snapshot of him with his pants around his knees. Then another one with his pants around his ankles and his shorts around his knees.

He left him like that for awhile while he unpacked some supplies. Then he approached him with two small glass jars. Wordlessly, he took his flaccid cock in his hand and began running his thumb lightly underneath it.

"Oh, man! You are sick! You are one--"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Sorry."

"Never had another guy do this to you, I'll bet. How does it feel?"

"That's not what's sick about it. I used to do circle jerks with my college buddies all the time. But they didn't kidnap me and tie me up first! Well, there was that one time in the frat, but... You know what I mean! Get your filthy hands off me!" He thought about it for a minute and added sheepishly, "Sorry, I mean your filthy *hand*. No offense."

"Not until you come."

"You're not gonna make me come! I am so *not* turned on by this!"

"We *could* do this the hard way," Krycek said, letting go. "You know how they get livestock to ejaculate?"

Jimmy thought about that. "I guess they just grab their cock," he said slowly. "It worked for me, anyway. Although he didn't actually come. But I think if I'd stroked him long enough--"

"What the hell are you talking about? I can't believe you know anything about livestock!"

"That's what that farmer said," Jimmy recalled thoughtfully.

"What kind of bull-- Never mind." Krycek reached over to the nightstand. "Do you know what this is?" He was holding up a small gadget shaped sorta like a pen. Jimmy didn't recognize it, but it looked generally like any of the miniaturized devices Frohike and the others were always making.

"Cool. What is it?" Jimmy asked, intrigued despite himself.

"It's for electrical stimulation. Like this." Krycek jabbed it at Jimmy's balls. Jimmy felt an incredibly intense sensation halfway between pleasure and pain. He gasped and felt his whole body arch in response. Krycek put the gadget aside and stroked his suddenly hard cock. He'd put some kind of lubricant on his hand; it slid easily up and down the length of the shaft. It stiffened further in response.

Then he picked up the gadget again and touched it to a nipple. Another intense electric jolt ran through his body. Krycek then freed up his hand by sticking the electric dohickey in his mouth, and used it to stimulate his nipple while his hand worked on his cock. That went on for an eternity, but then he fumbled it and it dropped and rolled off Jimmy's chest. Krycek ignored it and attacked the nipple directly with his mouth. Jimmy gasped again as he felt the tip of the man's tongue playing with his nipple. His pelvis bucked against Krycek's hand. Krycek was now attacking his nipple with his teeth. The painful sensation, combined with the occasional shocks to his back as he rolled onto the gadget beside him, plus the relentless stroking of his cock, was too much. He felt himself spurt. Instantly Krycek's head withdrew from his chest and was down at crotch level. He felt cold glass pressed against his cock head, catching the next spurt. He tried to hold it back, but that only intensified the orgasm.

After he had spent himself, he watched Krycek carefully upend the glass jar and let half of the ropey fluid ooze into the other jar. He then washed his hand and went outside without another word, taking the ice bucket with him. Soon he was back with a full bucket of ice. He put lids on the two jars and set them in the ice. Finally, he went back to his laptop computer, made a modem connection, and started typing.

"W-what are you planning to do with my cum?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"You're crazy, Krycek. Sick and crazy. You should get help."

"There's a method to my madness."

"You're gonna use it as evidence that you really have me."

"One of them."

Jimmy looked down at the sticky fluid drying on his belly. "Could you at least let me take a shower?"

Krycek looked up. "Tell you what. As soon as I'm finished arranging for the deliveries, I'll give you a sponge bath." There was a gleam in his eye.

Why was everyone always so eager to give him a sponge bath? Oh well, it wasn't like he had any dignity left.

///////////////////////

[Thursday afternoon]

Lying there, chained up and stripped to his shorts, Jimmy wondered what Krycek was planning to do to him next. He tried to keep his mind off of it by fantasizing what he would do to him when the guys rescued him. Being the captive of a spy was getting old real fast.

One aspect of the reality of captivity was beginning to be a real problem. His bladder was uncomfortably full. Somehow that never happened to heroes in the movies, but Krycek had been giving him water whenever he asked, plus a few bottles of sports energy drinks, and it had been a long time. He wondered if Krycek would uncuff him and let him use the bathroom, and whether he'd insist on following him in there. He always had trouble peeing when another guy was standing too close, and he was afraid to ask to be released and then have it seem like he was lying about needing to go. But now he'd waited as long as he could. Being pee-shy was not going to be a problem at this point.

"Krycek? I need to take a leak."

"No problem." Krycek got something from his luggage. Jimmy groaned when he saw it was one of those bottles they make for peeing in on long road trips. The guys all used them in the Mobile Command Post when they were on long stakeouts. Frohike and Langly disliked using them, and Byers absolutely hated them, but Jimmy had never minded. He'd even volunteered to empty the other guys' bottles as well as his own, but they didn't let him do that anymore, ever since that time he'd gotten the tops mixed up.

Using one himself was okay, but this was different. He looked away in resignation as Krycek pulled his shorts down and stuck his soft cock into the tube. He tried to relax and let nature take its course.

///////////////////////

[Friday afternoon]

"Anyone call while I was in the shower?" Krycek asked cheerfully as he stepped out of the bathroom. Jimmy didn't bother to answer, knowing the phone was unplugged. Krycek set down the duffel bag with his clothes, which he had taken into the bathroom with him. He had put on some pants, but was still shirtless. After putting the sling around his neck and attaching his arm, he rummaged through Jimmy's personal belongings and pulled out a long-sleeve shirt and began shrugging it on.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Don't worry," Krycek said, patting Jimmy's bare shoulder. "You won't be needing it. Not as long as I've got you. Maybe not ever. Depending on who I sell you to."

Jimmy's guts clenched in fear.

"Oh, don't worry, with any luck I'll be selling you back to your friends. Anyway, I'll be gone for a couple of hours." He went to the bags and came back with the urine bottle, and Jimmy groaned but did not try to resist as Krycek pulled his shorts down. It took him awhile this time, but Krycek was patient.

While Krycek was pouring the contents into the toilet, Jimmy called, "I still might need to -- you know..."

"You did that at the diner. That's why I put laxative in your juice. And then I gave you another drug to slow down your digestion, and I've been careful what I've been feeding you. You should be okay until tomorrow."

Krycek really planned ahead. Jimmy had to give him that.

His captor walked over to the heating and air conditioning unit and flipped open the control panel. "You know, someone once came *this* close to leaving me handcuffed in a car with the windows up while he left for a trip to the other side of the world?"

"Wow! What a jerk!"

"Maybe I should turn the heat up full blast while I'm gone."

"No, you're a better person than that, aren't you? You wouldn't do anything like that to me."

Krycek paused to think it over. "No. I won't take it out on you. You sure don't deserve that. I'll leave the air conditioning on. Is this a good temperature right now? Or do you want it up or down a little?"

"I'm good, thanks." As good as a man could be when he's powerless to go and open a window. Or to cover himself.

/////////////////

[Friday afternoon]

As if to mock Byers's gloom, it was perfect weather for a day at the beach, past the summer heat but still very warm. The touch of the sun on his body was seductive, luring him toward sleep, as gentle as warmth of a lover's body, and almost as unfamiliar.

He'd stayed up all night trying unsuccessfully to find a clue to where Krycek was keeping Jimmy. He had no business snoozing on a sunny beach when his friend was lying tied up somewhere. Still, lying here was the best thing he could do for Jimmy right now. And surely he wasn't going to drift off to sleep in broad daylight. Not when he was so worried.

He jerked awake at the sound of a voice in his ear. "Take off the sunglasses."

The man crouched beside him was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned, and a bathing suit Byers wouldn't be caught dead in. After a second, he recognized Alex Krycek. The shirt looked very familiar; Byers suspected it was one of Jimmy's. The man radiated a dark, cocky allure. His eyes looked almost green in the sunlight, Byers noticed as he stared up at him. "How did you..." Byers stammered.

Krycek smiled winningly at Byers's startled reaction. "Sneak up on you? Thanks, I was beginning to think I was losing my touch," he said. He reached down and removed Byers's sunglasses. "Didn't I tell you not to wear anything but swimming trunks?" he said with a sly grin, making a show of examining the frames for hidden electronics. There weren't any. They could have hidden an antenna under the towel Byers was lying on, but there was nowhere to hide the wires. That was presumably the whole point of picking a beach as the meeting location. At least Frohike and Langly were observing telescopically from the van. That, and the people all around, should keep Krycek from trying anything.

Tossing the glasses aside, Krycek fished around in a bag he'd brought with him and came out with a digital camera. He snapped a picture of Byers lying there. Byers closed his eyes in resignation. He'd never in his adult life allowed anyone to take a picture of him less than fully clothed, but he wasn't going to argue the point with Jimmy's fate at stake. He wondered if Krycek was doing this solely to humiliate him or if he had some even more twisted purpose.

He opened his eyes when he heard Krycek sit down in the sand next to him. He was now holding a small device with a color LCD screen. "This is what Frohike and Langly are looking at right now, in case you were wondering." He handed it to Byers, who sat up to look at the display. Shading it from the bright sun with his hand, he saw a moving image of four bikini-clad women playing beach volleyball. Krycek pointed toward the surf and to the left, and Byers saw a matching scene in real life. "Can you believe it?" Krycek asked. "They ought to be watching *you*."

"They're supposed to be." He'd been sure he could count on his friends to watch out for him. In all fairness, though, stakeouts could be pretty boring, and he didn't know how long he'd been asleep.

"Keep your eye on those women," Krycek said.

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"Nothing! But we're pretending to be just two normal guys on a beach, right? If anyone's paying any attention to us, this will dispel any suspicion that we're anything else."

"You think so?"

"It works. Half a minute of staring at the chicks, and we can get away with almost anything. No one will suspect a thing. Funny world we live in, isn't it?" He threw his arm around Byers's shoulders, still pretending to stare at the women. Byers gritted his teeth and played along, wondering if the sleeve touching his skin rightfully belonged to Jimmy.

Byers noticed that Krycek's prosthetic hand was hidden discreetly by the towel it was holding, so it wouldn't draw attention from witnesses. He realized that, even without this cloak-and-dagger stuff, Krycek probably would be uncomfortable appearing shirtless, even just to enjoy a sunny day on a beach. He'd have to choose between wearing an ugly fake arm, or displaying whatever scarred stump the amateur surgery that had left him with. Either way, he'd get a lot of stares. It was a shame; he was otherwise such a good-looking guy. Byers would have felt sorry for him if he weren't such a bastard -- a murder, and now a kidnapper. As it was, he'd probably attracted plenty of stares of a very different kind. Appreciative ones.

"Isn't this better than some smoke-filled diner?" Krycek asked, taking a deep breath of the ocean-scented breeze. "Or some dark and dank parking garage? Those places give me the creeps."

"Let's get to the point, Krycek."

Krycek withdrew his arm and pulled a magazine from the bag. He dropped it in Byers's lap. It was opened to a page that had a snapshot taped over the magazine picture: the original Polaroid of the first image Byers had already seen on the web site. The one showing Jimmy bound and helpless with a message scrawled across his naked chest. The picture Frohike and Langly had been so sure was a fake.

"A friend of yours?"

"You know he is," Byers said hoarsely. No one would have any reason to kidnap Jimmy except to extort something from Byers and his partners. If Jimmy wasn't a close friend of Byers, he'd be safe right now, happily organizing a deaf chorus or wheelchair ice hockey team or something.

Krycek reached over Byers and picked up the bottle of sunblock lying on the towel. He unscrewed the top one-handed, and upended the bottle to fill his good palm with the creamy white lotion. He set it down, and Byers automatically grabbed it and replaced the top to keep the contents from running out onto the towel.

Instead of applying it to his own chest or legs as Byers expected him to, Krycek started smearing the stuff on Byers's back. Byers sat up straight in shock, then hung his head and let his shoulders slump. He didn't dare demand that he stop, and Krycek knew it.

"How much is this man worth to you, Byers?"

"You're expecting us to pay a ransom for him?" Byers closed the magazine and looked at the cover. It was a popular men's exercise magazine. Krycek had pasted a label over the middle of the title so that it now read "Men Helpless."

"Of course not. You guys aren't exactly rich. If I wanted money, I could make a lot more by taking my little web site public, putting up banner ads, maybe adding a webcam. I'd make more in a month than you could possibly come up with for ransom. Of course, then I'd have to start feeding him."

"What do you want?" asked Byers miserably.

"I just need you to look up a few hard-to-find pieces of information for me. And erase certain inconvenient records. The details are on the beer bottles." He took his hand off Byers's shoulder and lifted a six-pack of beer from his bag. He extracted one bottle and reached around to hold it up in front of Byers's nose, with Byers's head held loosely in the crook of his arm in a gesture that would have looked very friendly to anyone paying attention. There was a label pasted on back. It was the right color and wouldn't look out of place from a distance, but it contained a few paragraphs of terse instructions. Byers spotted a numeric IP address that he recognized as being on one of the secure military subnets. Below it was a list of what looked like Unix directory names, judging by how prominently the slash character figured in.

"I'll never help you, Krycek. I have no idea what you're trying to do, but it's a good bet that innocent people will get hurt if you get what you want."

"Don't be so hasty. Why don't you browse through the rest of the magazine and think it over," Krycek said in a soothing voice. He resumed smearing the sunblock down Byers's back, his sliding fingers occasionally slipping under the elastic of Byers's trunks and caressing his buttocks. Byers tried to ignore him, and flipped through the pages. More photos were pasted in, showing Jimmy in various stages of being stripped. Part of him was outraged at seeing his friend humiliated; Jimmy was the last person in the world to deserve it. At the same time, he was chagrinned to find that part of him was actually aroused by the sight of the big man chained up and helpless. A part that was not nearly as well concealed by the bathing trunks as it would be by the dress pants he usually wore. Just when it seemed inevitable that Krycek would notice, Byers came to a picture that showed Jimmy lying face down with pink stripes crossing his back, as if he'd been whipped, and anger and concern overwhelmed his less appropriate reactions.

Krycek gently pushed him down onto his back, opened the bottle again, and shook more sunscreen onto his chest. "I assume you already put plenty of sunscreen on?"

"Yes!"

"Too bad," Krycek said, rubbing it in. "Otherwise I would bury your arms and legs in the sand and write on your chest. In a few hours you'd have 'Krycek's minion' written across you in white letters on a bright red background." He grinned gloatingly down at Byers.

"I'm not your minion. I haven't agreed to anything."

"How much is your friend's life worth to you, Byers? More than your principles?"

Byers buried his head in his hands. It was agonizing! How could he make a decision like this? Stealing secrets to sell to rouge nations? Subverting government records to let conspirators cover up past murders, and maybe help them commit more? It was against everything Byers stood for. Against everything Jimmy believed in, too. Jimmy wouldn't want him to do something like this, not even to save his own life. Would he?

"I... I can't! I can't do it. Please..."

"Fine. I know someone else who can do the job. They don't work as fast as you do, and it will be outrageously expensive." His fingers slid up Byers's side and invaded his armpit, idly playing with the hairs. "But I can afford it -- with the money I earn from selling your buddy into slavery."

"You're... you're bluffing!"

"Don't you think I have the connections? Your own newspaper even helped me find some of them." Krycek paused thoughtfully. "He's practically a giant by Asian standards. He should fetch a good price on the auction block, from customers with certain fetishes."

Byers choked down a sob. "No..." he whispered.

"It'll take you years to track him down, if you're lucky enough to find him at all."

"I'll do what you ask. We'll do it," Byers said, fighting to keep his voice calm.

"That's better," Krycek said softly, swirling sunblock around on Byers's belly. Again his fingers slid intimately an inch or two past the waistband of the trunks, touching skin that Byers never planned on exposing to the sun in his life.

Suddenly Krycek snatched his hand back and grabbed his little LCD display. He didn't look alarmed, just purposeful. "Just lie there for a minute," he said, backing off a few yards and studying the display.

After half a minute he came back. "They haven't forgotten you," he said. "Apparently they figure they're doing their job if they glance in your direction a few times per hour. Good thing they didn't spot me. I'd just as soon we had some privacy." He pulled Byers's trunks down just a little, exposing his navel and two inches of white belly, which he stroked lightly.

Byers found himself almost agreeing. Since he couldn't do anything to keep Krycek from humiliating him like this, it would just make it worse to have his friends watching. He knew he could fight Krycek off, maybe even overpower him and hold him while someone called the police. But he'd be dooming Jimmy. Krycek might have left him with a henchman with orders to kill him if he didn't come back by a certain time. He might have left him buried alive somewhere, for all he knew. Even if he were simply tied up in a remote cabin somewhere, he might die of thirst if Krycek didn't divulge his whereabouts.

"So, we have a deal?" Krycek asked.

"Please. I'll do what you ask, but you have to give me some time. It's not going to be easy to do it undetected." He was exaggerating. He knew he could get Langly to help, and he was sure Langly could do it in a matter of hours, if the other five bottles weren't much harder tasks than the first one.

"Sure. How much time do you need?" His fingertips, dipping inside his trunks again, had found the place where Byers's pubic hair began. He toyed with it as he pretended to watch the volleyball game with renewed interest.

Byers forced himself to concentrate. "Depends on the other five bottles. At least a day altogether. Maybe longer?"

"How about three days? Does that work for you?"

"Um, I think so."

"Good. That works for me, too. It'll give me time to run some experiments." His hand, still creamy, started on Byers's legs.

"Experiments?"

"On your friend."

"Krycek! Krycek, please! I said I would--"

"I'll expect one bottle done every twelve hours. Or you can expect a body part in the mail for every deadline you miss."

He waited for Byers to plead some more, but Byers knew it was useless. And if he said anything more, he might break down.

"You can choose whatever order you like. Of the bottles. I'll choose the order of the body parts." His fingers stole up the leg of Byers's trunks, tickling his scrotum, which retracted defensively.

"You're contradicting yourself. A minute ago you threatened to sell him. I would think ... mutilating him would reduce his value."

"Depends what use the customer has in mind. They may prefer a slave who can't walk. Or, there's still a small market for harem guards among a few rich traditionalists in the Middle East. Maybe before I start cutting, I should solicit some offers today and see who he's worth the most to." He ran his hand lightly down Byers's torso.

"I assure you," Byers said, forcing himself to sound calm, "that he's worth more to me than he is to anyone in the world you could sell him to."

"Then you'll get him back in one piece, if you and your friends are as good as your reputation says you are." Krycek checked his watch. "I'd better get back to him. He must be getting thirsty. Here's what I want you to do now. You're going to go for a little swim. Wade out past the breakers and swim out for another minute. Then come back, pick up these beer bottles, and go and tell your friends what they missed while they were checking out the babes."

Byers didn't move.

"Don't make me have to go in there with you. If I do, I'm taking your trunks out with me. *That* ought to keep you here awhile."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't turn you in to the authorities right now and take my chances with Jimmy dying of dehydration. He might prefer a clean death to what you have in mind for him."

"Because I just promised you not to hurt him, if you cooperate."

Byers sighed. "I guess that's a good reason."

"No permanent harm, at least," Krycek amended.

Byers waded into the surf and swam out, as he was told. It was what he felt like doing anyway. It helped to wash away the memory of Krycek's unwanted touch. Better yet, Byers found that the ocean could absorb all the tears a man was capable of crying, and never even notice.

////////////

[Friday evening]

"If it's a fake, it's an incredibly good one," Langly said, looking at a high-resolution scan he'd made from one of the original Polaroids. He zoomed in on Jimmy's chest and ran his finger along it. "See, you can see the individual hairs that are stuck to the grease pencil markings."

"I think at this point we should assume they're real," Byers said, awkwardly crossing his legs.

"They're real, all right," Frohike said, looking at a physical picture under a low-power optical microscope. "This was directly exposed onto this Polaroid film. It's no ink jet." He looked up. "He's really gotten himself into trouble this time."

"You can't blame Jimmy for being taken in by Krycek," Byers protested. "You're forgetting that he even fooled Mulder and Skinner once. Jimmy's only mistake was being too trusting. That, and being associated with people someone like Krycek would target. Us."

"No one ever asked him to," Frohike said. "*I* wanted to get rid of him."

"But not like this," Byers said.

"No, of course not! Anyway, it was getting so I didn't mind having him around so much."

There was a long uncomfortable silence. Finally Langly said, "Those beer bottles with Krycek's instructions--"

"No! There's got to be another way," Byers said firmly.

"Your call, man," Langly said.

Byers wished he could just pass out from exhaustion and escape the responsibility. Let Langly and Frohike do whatever it took to get Jimmy back. Byers would wake up and find him safe, and his conscience would be clear of whatever it was they'd decided to do while he was out of it. But that would be the coward's way out.

/////////////////////////////

[Friday evening]

Just at the moment, Jimmy felt that Krycek was the nicest kidnapper ever. Not only had he given in to his pleas to turn on the TV before he left, he'd even let Jimmy have the remote. He'd done something to the innards of the remote to keep him from using the Guest Services menu button, like he really thought Jimmy could figure out a way to get help that way. He also disabled the volume control and mute, leaving it turned up pretty loud. But the all-important channel button was fully functional, and this motel subscribed to all his favorite channels. With his hands chained over his head, he had to hold it with an awkward grip and work the buttons by feel, but he soon got the hang of it, and was happily channel surfing. Never mind that he was chained up and theoretically a prisoner -- having the control of the remote was true American freedom!

When Krycek came back from his mysterious errand, Jimmy expected him to turn off the TV or at least take the remote away. Instead, after greeting him in as offhanded and friendly a manner as if Jimmy was just his roommate lying on the bed watching TV in his shorts, Alex put away a few things and opened the door in the wall opposite the bathroom. There was another door behind it, already ajar. It must be an adjoining room, just like the one in that POE embassy. Krycek disappeared through the doorway and shut the far door.

Jimmy shrugged and went back to watching The Simpsons. He dozed off toward the end of Malcolm in the Middle and woke up in time for the ten o'clock news. He wasn't surprised that his kidnapping didn't rate a mention. His friends probably hadn't even reported it to the police. They didn't trust the authorities much. If they had, his fate probably didn't interest the rest of the world enough to make the news. He was pretty sure *they* were trying hard to find him, and that was what was important.

/////////////////////////////

[Friday night]

"Bad luck," Langly said. "Not a single one of the spy satellites we know about was watching the beach when he left."

"I don't think luck had anything to do with it," Byers said. "I'm sure Krycek timed it that way."

"Well, for once I wish we hadn't picked this place where we did." One of the charms of HQ was that the buildings on either side of the alley blocked the view from the sky, unless a satellite passed directly overhead, in which case it would have a brief chance to image the roofs of the cars. None of the spy satellites they knew about had orbits that would allow even that. They'd chosen this location carefully, to protect their own privacy from spying governmental eyes. Now it had backfired: they had no idea what kind of car Krycek was driving, and there was no chance of tracking his departure with Jimmy from HQ.

"Thanks for looking, anyway," Byers said.

"Look, man, I'm sorry about doubting the picture," Langly said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. It was obvious that he realized that his complacency had endangered Jimmy's life, and was feeling guilty.

"And," Frohike added, "about watching the babes on the beach when we should have been watching you, buddy." He thought about that. "Er, I mean..."

"What's important is that you're working on it now, that that there's still time to help him," Byers said. "Any luck with the hotel databases?"

/////////////////////////////

[Friday night]

Krycek really had style. If Jimmy was going to be hand-fed while he was bound and helpless, he had to admit that grapes were a great choice. As the other man leaned over him and popped the sweet round globes into his mouth, one at a time, giving him time to savor each one, Jimmy could almost fantasize that Krycek was his slave, instead of the other way around. Krycek had left his own shirt unbuttoned in the warm motel room. Jimmy could easily imagine that they were both wearing Greek togas, or maybe less.

Krycek mentioned something about grapes being high in boron, "an important element for assembling molecules in the body." Jimmy was more concerned with how good it tasted, and with the not unpleasant intimacy of the other man leaning against him as he fed him. Jimmy was touched by his captor's thoughtfulness in picking up fresh food for his prisoner. He could have kept him alive with less trouble by feeding him some much less tasty gruel. Maybe Alex wasn't such a bad guy, despite being a liar and a kidnapper and all.

////////////////////

[Friday night]

Krycek's web site now had a form for submitting the required stolen information and claims about erased information. Byers noticed that for this, Krycek had installed a secure sockets layer. He was still sending the increasingly humiliating images of Jimmy across the net in the clear, though.

It also had a countdown timer reminding them that there was less than two hours left before his first breakin was due. It mockingly advised them "to allow up to two business days for the package to be delivered," but chillingly promised that "the parts will be shipped promptly."

All three of them worked late into the night, hoping that Krycek hadn't covered quite all of his tracks.

///////////////////////

[Friday night]

"You look pretty gloomy," Krycek said. "What's on your mind?"

"Just thinking how stupid I was to trust you and believe your story. The other guys never would have."

"Don't be too sure. I have something to show you."

"What?"

"You weren't the first one I captured." He held a photo in front of Jimmy's nose.

It was a picture of Byers, lying on a carpet just like the one in this room. He'd been stripped to the waist, or maybe naked; the picture stopped at the bottom of his rib cage. His eyes were closed, as though he were unconscious. His face was marked only by a bruise on one cheek, but his chest looked like someone had strung him up and used him as a punching bag. For a one-handed boxer: his left side was covered with bruises. There were also angry red stripes across his chest, and more lashes on his shoulders hinted that his back had been whipped even harder.

Krycek was leaning over him, watching his reaction, careful to stay out of range when Jimmy recovered from his shock and began thrashing uselessly until the handcuffs dug into his wrists. Normally, when he got mad, Jimmy liked to have a lot of space to be mad in. It kept him from hitting whoever happened to be in reach before he thought about whether that was a good idea. Being tied up really made it worse. The target of his anger was right in his face, and he couldn't get away from him *or* lash out at him.

"You! You!" Words failed him. "What did you *do* to him? If you killed him..."

"Oh, he's alive. I know what I'm doing. I can keep him alive for a very long time." He made it sound like a threat.

"Let him go! You've got me as a hostage. Let him go *now*!"

"You're in no position to make demands, Jimmy," Krycek pointed out, patting him on the belly.

"If I ever get loose..." But it seemed an empty threat. "Why Byers? What do you want with him?"

"There's certain information he has that I want."

"Where is he? Why are you holding him separately?" he demanded. He wondered if Byers was in the adjoining room. "Why don't you at least put us in the same room?"

"I wanted some privacy for some of the things I've been doing to him," Krycek explained.

Jimmy seethed as his imagination chewed on that one. Not that Byers hadn't been in tough spots before. It seemed to be the fate of the staff of the *Lone Gunman* to face personal danger for each week's issue. But this one seemed just a little *too* personal.

"But maybe that's not such a bad idea, to put you in the same room. You know, Byers is a lot tougher than he seems. He's a very hard man to break. But I think bringing you in, and torturing you while he watches, might just do it."

It just might. What a horrible image.

"You should see the look on your face!" Krycek taunted.

"What do you want from us?" he moaned, sagging down onto the mattress. "What can I do to get you to let him go? I'll do anything!"

"I'm not letting him go until he talks. I've already tried every interrogation technique short of breaking his fingers. That's next on my list."

"Please don't," Jimmy whispered.

"If that doesn't work, I'll have to use the knife."

Again Jimmy thrashed against the handcuffs, which just bit deeper into his wrists, and kicked at the air. It was useless. He settled back, breathing hard.

"And if he doesn't talk, I'll just have to keep cutting until he bleeds to death."

"No! No, please!"

"If I do decide to kill him, would you want to be with him?"

"Please, I don't want you to kill him at all," he moaned.

Krycek patted his arm, just below where the handcuff was biting into his wrist. "Let's just suppose you have no choice about that part. Would you rather he die alone, on in your arms?"

"I hope they lock you up and throw away the key."

"I asked you a question," Krycek said dangerously.

"In... in my arms." He swallowed. "Nobody should have to die alone. Especially... not Byers." He fought back tears. If any of his heroes had to die, it should be the other two who were there to comfort him. Jimmy didn't feel he deserved that bittersweet honor.

"So you'd rather I kill him in front of you? You're saying you want to watch?"

"That's not what I meant." Damn, now he was crying in front of this heartless monster!

Krycek traced the track of Jimmy's tears down his stubbled jaw with his fingers. "I hate to see a grown man cry." But it was obvious that he was lying. The bastard was enjoying this!

Once he started, he couldn't stop. The humiliation of showing weakness in front of Krycek just made it worse. Krycek watched him cry for a few minutes, then touched his shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. Jimmy ignored him. "Hey! Listen to me." Jimmy looked at him. "I have no intention of killing Byers. Not today. I just wanted to see what kind of reaction I'd get from you."

"Now you know," he sniffled.

"You're no fun; you're way too easy. Making Skinner break down, now, that would be satisfying, or even Mulder."

"You're not gonna kill him?" A weight seemed to lift from him as that sank in.

"All I want is some illegal computer work done for me. Once his friends do that, I'll release Byers. You too, eventually."

"Wouldn't Byers be more useful doing the work for you? The guys are used to working as a team. You'd still have me as a hostage."

"Langly is the best at what I want done. And he's known Byers a lot longer than he's known you."

That was a diplomatic way of putting it. Jimmy liked to believe that Langly was his friend, and wasn't fooled by his constant sarcastic putdowns. He'd gotten worse abuse in locker rooms from some of his best friends, back in school. It was just the way some guys showed their affection for each other. But how far would he go to save Jimmy? Not as far as he would for Byers, that much was sure. And Krycek was sure to have asked Langly to do some pretty dishonest stuff. With Byers not around to protest, Langly would do it, to save his friend. So would Frohike. If he'd kidnapped Langly instead, Byers would be tearing himself apart choosing between his principles and his friend's life. Yeah, Krycek must have the guys pretty well pegged.

"Langly would do anything for Byers. He'll give you what you ask. Just be patient. Please."

////////////////////

[Friday night after midnight]

"I think I found a pattern match on the headboard from the picture," Langly said. "But that manufacturer has shipped, like, ten thousand beds to half the cheap motels in the Northeast."

"Well, at least that narrows it down a little," Byers said. "It's good to be making *some* progress."

"We've only got two hours left," Frohike pointed out. "Maybe it's time we thought about bringing in outside help."

"What can we do?" Langly asked. "Report the kidnapping to the FBI? Krycek is already officially wanted by the FBI, and they haven't been able to catch him yet. He's gotta have help on the inside, so getting the FBI involved would just be tipping him off."

"Two hours," Byers muttered. Two hours, and Krycek would start cutting pieces off of Jimmy, unless they did one of the jobs for him. He felt his two friends looking expectantly at him.

////////////////////

[Friday night after midnight]

Krycek had been very quiet for the last hour, sitting at his computer. Maybe he was reading. There was a lot to read on the Internet, according to Frohike.

Krycek just kept staring at the screen, punching a couple of keys every so often. Jimmy spent the time worrying about Byers, and wondering what he'd been doing when Krycek had captured him. He was sure that Byers hadn't been captured by being gullible, like him. No, Byers must have risked himself heroically, knowingly putting himself in danger for yet another good cause, and this time he'd lost the gamble. He was an incredibly brave man. And now his luck had finally run out.

Krycek got up from the desk and slowly walked over to the foot of the bed, where he squatted down. He seemed to have taken a sudden interest in Jimmy's bare feet. He reached out and fingered the smallest toe on Jimmy's right foot, separating it from the others, holding it between thumb and forefinger, running his thumb up and down it. Jimmy wished he would lean closer so he could kick him in the face, but his leg was already fully extended. Finally he looked at his watch and sighed. He paced back and forth across the room, checked his watch again, and went back to using his computer. Jimmy didn't waste time wondering whether Krycek had a foot fetish. That was the least of his worries right now.

////////////////////

[Friday night after midnight]

There was less than an hour before the first deadline. Clearly they weren't going to rescue Jimmy in that time, and they couldn't count on Krycek waiting until morning. They'd have to give in to one of Krycek's demands. Studying the beer bottles, Byers was relieved to find that one of the jobs wasn't morally objectionable at all. Intercepting data from a military satellite to track alien ships in orbit wouldn't hurt any innocent people, as far as Byers knew. That would buy them another twelve hours to look, and it was an easy enough task that Byers could do it in his sleep. That was fortunate, since he was half asleep already. He gathered the information and entered it on Krycek's web form with ten minutes to spare. Langly gave up for the night, but Byers kept looking for any trace of where Jimmy had been taken. Even without the next deadline to worry about, how could he sleep knowing that Jimmy was in Krycek's clutches?

////////////////////

[Friday night after midnight]

With Krycek back at the desk, Jimmy's mind wandered back to Byers, and all the opportunities he'd missed to say something to him about how he felt. They'd both been free, and living under the same roof, all that time. He wondered if there would have been any chance someone like Byers would actually settle for someone like him. If they both got out of this alive, maybe he'd finally give it a try, so he wouldn't die wondering. What had he been afraid of? Byers was a nice guy. He'd certainly let him down easy.

He was pretty sure by this point that Byers was gay. He'd suspected almost from the beginning, ever since that day the two of them were coming back from dropping the latest issue of at the printer's. It must have been only a few weeks after the guys had let him join the team, because he remembered that Byers had been talking about the results of breaking the whaling story. That had been in the first issue the two of them had taken to the printers together, right after the one he'd paid for and picked up on his own, as a surprise. Byers had told him that while the story hadn't exactly forced the whaling fleet to shut down, the publicity had been a big setback for the corporation. A lot of whales were probably alive today that would be dead, all because Jimmy's money had allowed them to publish the information Frohike and the others had gotten. Also, they'd run a followup story the next week about how the Japanese government were holding seven eco-terrorists who had destroyed the harpoon guns on one ship as an act of protest, sorta like the founding fathers had done in the Boston Coffee Break. Major newspapers picked up the story, and the authorities had dropped the charges to avoid the international attention. So seven brave young men and women were free who would still be in prison, all because of a thousand dollars or so of Jimmy's savings. The sense of pride that news gave him, especially when the praise came from his hero Byers, was unmatched by anything else he'd experienced in his life. It was way better, even, than scoring a winning touchdown and having his teammates carry him off the field on their shoulders. Maybe even if you counted the part where they carried him into the locker room, stripped him, and showered him in champaign.

Anyway, he remembered was already feeling really good on that day, which was an especially fine sunny day, maybe a little on the hot side. They'd stopped at a red light, and a handsome hunk of a guy crossed the street right in front of the car, carrying his T-shirt wadded up in his hand. Jimmy followed him with his eyes, of course, admiring the muscular and well-tanned chest and back. But since good-looking men always reminded him of Byers, he automatically glanced over at his buddy, and did a double-take: Byers was staring at the guy too! When he saw Jimmy watching him, he took a sudden interest in checking the arithmetic on the printer's receipt. From then on, whenever Byers was in his car, Jimmy took every chance he could to get a good view of shirtless men, even more than he usually would. He got good at timing things so that he'd stop at strategically placed red lights. He chose routes that took them past parks, and colleges with big lawns, and construction sites: anything to increase the opportunities. Byers never commented on the odd routes he took; the Lone Gunmen made a habit of never taking the same route twice anywhere, in order to make them harder to ambush. And sure enough, Jimmy noticed that Byers looked at shirtless men whenever he thought Jimmy wasn't watching him. He was never direct enough about it to make the guys uncomfortable. If they noticed at all, they could always convince themselves that Byers just happened to be looking in their direction by accident. But Jimmy couldn't, not when Byers was so consistent about it. Plus, in all the time he'd known him, he'd never once heard Byers talk about women. Compared to Frohike's constant vague bragging, or Langly's juvenile attitude toward sex, or the crude talk of the lesser men Jimmy used to hang out with, Byers had a notable disinterest in women.

But he couldn't figure out how to ask him about it without sounding like he was coming on to him. After all, it must have occurred to Byers by now that Jimmy was also gay. Jimmy had been openly staring at some of the same guys Byers was, and if he could figure out what Byers thinking, Byers sure was smart enough to do the same! So, what was he supposed to say? "Yeah, great pecs, huh? Say, I notice you seem to especially like looking at the big beefy guys. Is that your type?" Yeah, right, like a man like Byers would ever settle for Jimmy!

///////////////////////

[Saturday morning]

"Please tell me you've been to bed since I last saw you here," Langly said as he set a cup of coffee by Byers's elbow.

"You know I would never lie to you. Is it morning already?"

"'Fraid so. Are you any closer than we were last night?"

"I have some leads, but I still haven't found him." He gratefully drank some of the coffee. "I'm glad you're awake. Could you--"

"Sorry man, but I've got treasure to steal, swords to brandish, potions to quaff, and all that."

"Langly--"

"I know. I want to find him too. Normally I'd just blow off the game. But you see, Lord Manhammer is trapped in the Dungeons of Despair with six giant tarantulas closing in on him. If I'm not there today, the GM will... OK, I know how that sounds. Don't look at me that way, Byers. If we had any real chance of finding him, you know I'd put even Jimmy's life ahead of a stupid game. But face it, man, we've lost the trail. There's nothing left to do but decide whether to keep giving Krycek what he wants." He picked up one of the beer bottles and reread the label. "University research lab. Piece of cake. Want me to take care of this one real quick before I go?"

"We can still track him down, if you help."

"And miss the game for nothing? I'm telling you, it's a lost cause."

"Jimmy dedicated his life to lost causes," Byers said softly. "He joined us because he believed we do too. You *know* he would search for *us*, no matter how hopeless it looked. He's done it! More than once."

Langly looked abashed, but made no move to sit down. Byers buried his face in his arms on the desk. He was so worn down that he was dangerously close to losing his composure.

"Oh, hey," Langly said softly. Awkwardly, he put a hand on Byers's shoulder. "The big dope really means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

Moved by the unusually gentle tone of concern in Langly's voice, Byers tried to ignore his irritation at his words. Langly never had any respect for Jimmy. If he couldn't respect his intelligence, at least he might respect his loyalty. Jimmy had lent them his entire life savings to keep the paper alive, not even expecting it back. And every time they repaid him, they wound up needing to borrow it back again, and he gave it to them gladly. Once he'd even allowed his beloved car to be repossessed rather than let them miss an issue! If he'd done that to keep the dream alive, he would certainly have given anything to keep his friends alive. Byers said softly, "If anything happens to him, and there's anything I could have done to prevent it..."

"I know. I've lost friends before. I know how it feels."

Byers stared at him. Langly had lost casual acquaintances before, like that guy in Las Vegas he knew from role playing games. Byers felt that this trivialized his own closeness to Jimmy, but it would be in bad taste to try to compare one person's grief to another. Surely Langly must have noticed his affection for Jimmy, even if he hadn't guessed how far it went.

"Or... maybe I don't know how it feels," Langly amended, obviously seeing something in his face. "Okay, okay. I'll stay. On two conditions. You let me make you some breakfast. And you go to bed by noon, after you fill me in, and get at least a few hours of sleep."

"Thank you, Langly. I'll never forget this. No matter... how this turns out."

////////////////////

[Previous night, Friday night, after midnight]

Jimmy heard Krycek's sigh of relief from across the room. He was probably doing something illegal on his computer and had just avoided getting caught. Either that, or he was into computer games, like Langly. Maybe his intergalactic empire had just escaped some particularly nasty fate. Whatever it was, he brightened up considerably, but instead of relaxing he started purposefully typing away. Finally, he got up and stretched.

"Now that that's out of the way," he said, "let's check on your progress." Picking up his palm-top computer, he fiddled with it and then aimed the pointy part at Jimmy like a weapon for a few seconds. Nothing happened, but Krycek seemed very pleased with what he saw on the screen.

"Cool! Looks like they're all set." He stuffed the wash cloth back in Jimmy's mouth. Whatever he had in mind, it looked like it was going to involve screaming. Again he aimed the gadget at Jimmy. Maybe it *was* a weapon, not a computer. Nothing shot out of it, but Jimmy felt a painful sensation up and down his body. Krycek watched him writhe, looking smug. The pain subsided, and Krycek leaned over him and, as Jimmy watched, lightly scratched his belly with his fingernails. It felt like his skin was being clawed away! But it wasn't; not a single mark appeared. Krycek slapped him lightly in the chest, and it felt like Jimmy had done a belly-flop from the high dive. He punched him on the shoulder, just a love tap Jimmy might give a buddy, and it felt like Jimmy had tried to tackle a brick wall. A few light punches up and down his ribs, and he felt like he was being worked over with a baseball bat. But his ribs were somehow still intact, and he had a feeling there would be no bruises. Finally, Krycek pinched his nipple, and the world exploded in a blaze of pain.

When he came to, the gag had been removed. "W-what have you done to me?" he whispered.

"I injected you with biomedical nanobots. They've replicated over the past few hours and interfaced to your neural system. They're programmed with coded RF pulses from this palm-top."

Jimmy nodded thoughtfully, not understanding a single word. Somehow this was just the kind of thing he expected of Krycek -- whatever "this" was. He sure seemed well-equipped. Handcuffs, drugs, that electro-jerk-off gadget, and now "manodots." "Where do you get all this stuff, anyway?" he asked. "Some catalog for evil-doers?"

"What kind of catalog do you think sells stuff like this?"

"Acme?"

Krycek stared at him.

"You know, the one the coyote was always--"

"I *know* what you meant. I'm just trying to deal with the fact I walked right into it. Gave you a straight line. Just for that...." He grinned viciously. This couldn't be good.

He did something on his palm-top, pointed it at him, and nothing happened.

Until he reached out and touched him, ever so lightly. Jimmy cringed, expecting a jolt of pain. But it didn't hurt. It tickled! It tickled more than it had a right to. Usually Jimmy wasn't all that ticklish; it usually took a couple of minutes to really get him laughing, and few men were strong enough to force him to hold still for that long. Normally it took several guys ganging up on him, holding him down and working on him patiently, before he'd lose control and start laughing helplessly. Not this time. One light stroke along his side, and he was already laughing. His ribs were incredibly ticklish. The center of his chest was ticklish. His forearms were ticklish. His *elbows* were ticklish. Everywhere Krycek touched him, from his throat to the soles of his feet, produced about ten times the effect that tickling his armpits usually would. And he touched him just about everywhere he could reach. Just the feel of his shorts being tugged down tickled his pelvis, but not half as much as a human hand did a minute later. He thrashed around as much as his chains would let him, but couldn't escape Krycek's touch. He managed to kick him once, but not hard enough to inflict any serious damage. His shorts around his ankles impeded him, and he was weak from laughing.

Jimmy barely noticed Krycek leaving the room; he was too busy catching his breath. As he lay there gasping, and stretching his legs just to make sure they worked again, he started thinking about what peaceful uses this cool invention could be put to. "Tickle football" was the most obvious application. The only trouble with regular football, he felt, is that you have to wear all that padding and a helmet, and even then, one unlucky tackle can cause a knee injury that ends your career. Tackling is fun, most of the time, when no one got hurt, but there's always the risk. With this gadget, you could bring a guy to his knees by tickling instead of tackling him. If only Krycek would turn his skills to useful ends, it could revolutionize Monday nights!

Krycek came back holding an ice bucket with ice rattling around inside. Jimmy noticed he had strapped on his prosthetic arm before going outside. Setting down the ice bucket, he did something on his palmtop, and pointed it at Jimmy again. Nothing seemed to happen. Then Krycek took out a single ice cube and put it in his prosthetic hand. Jimmy realized right away what he was planning to do with it. And he could keep at it for a long time. His fake hand wouldn't feel the cold at all -- unlike Jimmy's naked body. He forced himself not to whimper, not to beg, but his feelings must have shown on his face, judging by Krycek's gleeful grin as he met his eyes. Krycek stuffed a washcloth in his mouth again, like he expected him to scream. Jimmy felt insulted. He'd had buddies stick ice cubes down his shirt lots of times. How bad could it be? He steeled himself and promised he would endure it stoically without moving or making a sound.

It was bad. Way more painful than was physically possible. Jimmy screamed into the washcloth and opened his eyes, surprised to confirm that it really was just an ice cube touching his chest and not a red hot ember. His eyes told him that his skin wasn't being harmed, but it felt like it should be blistering, smoking, turning black. He screamed himself hoarse as the ice slid slowly down his chest, down his belly, down his pelvis. He pried his eyes open again to assure himself that his balls weren't really being burned away. It was just ice. Just ice, not flaming oil blazing a trail down the inside of his leg.

"It's over," Krycek whispered in his ear, taking the washcloth out of his mouth and started tenderly mopping Jimmy's brow with the washcloth.

"Leave me alone! Don't touch me!"

"Whatever you say," Krycek said cheerfully.

He watched Jimmy silently sobbing, watched him pull himself together again.

"In fact, I'll skip the rest of my experiments on you. I've got another test subject, after all. It's time for him to do his share."

"Byers?" Jimmy whispered.

"Who else?"

"Please, no!"

"What, are you volunteering to do it instead?"

"Yeah. I can take it." He thought Byers could probably take it, too, but he couldn't stand the idea. "Whatever you think you have to do, do it on me."

"You sure?"

Jimmy was absolutely sure. Not that he wasn't scared of what would come next.

"OK, then. Just three more experiments. And good news: They won't hurt. Here goes the next experiment."

He picked up the palmtop and did something. This time there was an immediate effect. Jimmy's whole body started itching -- at least, the front of it, from his shoulders to his knees. He ached to scratch it, but his bound hands couldn't get anywhere near his body. He thrashed around helplessly, then thought of trying to flip over so he could at least rub himself against the sheets. But he was too exhausted to do even that.

"How does that feel? It's supposed to itch."

"It itches like anything!"

"I could scratch it for you, but you asked me not to touch you."

"You're a sadist, you know that?"

He suffered in silence for a few minutes, hoping the itch would go away. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. "All right!" he finally yelled. "You can scratch me!" When Krycek didn't move, he added, "Please. Please scratch me."

Krycek scratched his belly. It felt great. The itching there was immediately relieved, and showed no signs of coming back again. The rest of his body felt jealous; it still itched fiercely. "My chest?" he asked hopefully.

"Let me hear you beg."

"Oh, man!" He saw that Krycek was not going to budge. "All right. Please! Please, please scratch my chest. I'm begging you! Ah! Oh man, that feels good. Higher, please!"

Krycek methodically worked his way around his body, but he made Jimmy continue asking for it, forcing him to undergo the humiliation of begging his captor to scratch his crotch, rub his balls, squeeze his cock. Finally, after he directed him to a few spots he'd missed, he was completely free of the itching.

"If you think you're under my control now," Krycek gloated, "just wait until you see *this*." He fiddled with the palmtop and pointed it at Jimmy.

Immediately, Jimmy's arms and legs cramped. Four charlie horses, all at once. He involuntarily tried to curl into a fetal position, which made it worse. The pain was excruciating.

Then suddenly he was able to stretch out again. The cramping had magically disappeared. His muscles felt a little sore as he stretched them, that was all.

"No more pain, you said. I should have known not to believe you," he groaned.

"Sorry. It wasn't supposed to work that way. That's why it was an experiment."

"What was it supposed to do?"

"It was supposed to take over motor control."

"You stole my car, too?!"

"No, motor control of your muscles. It was supposed to turn you into my puppet."

"W-what would you have done with me then?"

"Oh, I'd have thought of something." He grinned down at Jimmy. "Now, just one more experiment. I hope this one works like it's supposed to. I saved the best for last."

Jimmy didn't like to think about what might be "the best" in Krycek's mind. He still felt normal after Krycek finished with the palmtop and set it aside. He was exhausted, but lying there with the mild air currents from the air conditioner playing over his chest felt pleasant. Krycek approached and reached out to touch him again with his bare hand. Jimmy tensed, not knowing what to expect.

It was the last thing he expected. As Krycek lightly touched his chest, ripples of pleasure coursed through his body. He gasped and arched his back. The guy wasn't even touching a nipple, just the center of his chest, and he was still overwhelmed by the sensation. The hand moved to his belly, with the same result. He ran his fingers around the rim of Jimmy's navel, and unseen fireworks seemed to spiral out, some going straight to his cock, some washing over his chest. This fiend had no right to make him feel this good, after what he'd done to him and to Byers! Jimmy tried to wriggle out of the way, but he still hadn't recovered from what had gone before, and his efforts were feeble. Besides, he wasn't going anywhere, not while he was chained to the bed.

Krycek continued to merciless pleasuring, his hand roaming all over Jimmy's body. He'd been naked and helpless so long now, he'd almost started getting used to it. But this made him feel more exposed than even a naked man could naturally be, like an extra layer of clothing he hadn't even known he was wearing had just been stripped away.

It seemed to go on forever. When Krycek finally got bored and stopped, Jimmy was surprised to find that he was only half erect. It was hard to believe that he'd endured that much pleasure without coming.

"I think after that you owe me one more test."

"You promised--"

"I lied." Big surprise there. He pointed the gadget at Jimmy. He felt perfectly normal now, until Krycek reached out to stroke him and he tried to cringe. Nothing happened. He couldn't move his chest muscles. He couldn't rattle his chains. His legs wouldn't move either. Everything from the neck down was paralyzed. He felt Krycek lightly stroke his chest, but it didn't feel intimate at all, compared to how it had a minute ago.

"Can you move?"

"No, I can't! What--" he began, then had to stop for a second while he took another breath. "What did you do to me?" His lungs weren't working right; his breathing continued by itself and he had to time his speaking to use the air as it came out.

"It's temporary. I can turn it off with the press of a button, just like the other modes." Krycek pulled Jimmy's shorts, which had been bunched around his ankles, entirely off his body, and then spread his legs out wide. Jimmy felt the hand on his feet, but his legs still didn't respond to his will. "Now, what shall I do with you?"

"If you're asking me, I'd say you should leave me alone."

"Unfortunately for you, I was talking to myself. Are you sure you can't move?"

"Positive."

Krycek took Jimmy's balls in his hand, not hard enough to hurt, and rolled them around. It was maddening for his balls to be resting in another man's hand without being able to make a single move to defend them. Fortunately, his ball sac had a mind of its own and shrivelled as tightly against his legs as it could. "Interesting, Krycek muttered. "But you can't move your legs at all?"

"If I could, don't you think I would have?"

"Can you hold your breath?"

He tried. "No," he gasped.

"So you're completely helpless. This ought to be entertaining. Maybe I'll drag Byers in here so you can watch what I'm going to do to him."

Jimmy's gut clenched. "Please..." he whispered.

Krycek reached into his luggage and produce a large knife. He held the edge against Jimmy's chest. "Or maybe I'll bring him in here and make him watch while I flay you alive." The sharp knife shaved off a few chest hairs. Jimmy swallowed hard. He could feel the cold edge scraping against his skin.

Krycek set down the knife and got up. Jimmy was terrified that he was going to carry out his threat to bring Byers in here to watch him being skinned alive. Compassion was Byers's one weakness. Jimmy didn't think Byers would ever be whole again if he had to watch something like that. "Please, don't!" he begged.

But Krycek didn't go to the door. He came back with a key. Putting the knife between his teeth, he released one of Jimmy's arms. It feel heavily to his side. Pocketing the key, Krycek took the knife in his hand again and placed the edge against Jimmy's chest. "Don't what?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"If you're gonna do something awful to me, don't make Byers watch."

"You got it."

Jimmy watched in horror as Krycek drew the blade very lightly across his skin and made a tiny cut, hardly worse than a bad paper cut. A few drops of blood welled up. Krycek put the knife back between his teeth and unlocked the other arm. The only thing restricting Jimmy's movement now was those manodot things, but they did the job better than the chains had. He could only watch as Krycek put the knife against his chest again, seemed to change his mind, moved it down in the general direction of his crotch... Jimmy closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

He heard the knife being set down on the night table and opened his eyes. Krycek, looking relieved, was unlocking the handcuffs from his wrists.

"It works!" he said. "I can paralyze you anytime I want."

"You're not gonna cut me up?"

"No. That was just a test. I had to be absolutely sure you weren't faking it. But do you know what this means for you now?"

"What?"

"It means I can let you use the bathroom, even take a shower. And I can get you a real meal."

////////////////////

[Saturday noon]

Tired as he was, Byers lay awake for a long time. He couldn't get his mind off of Jimmy. Not only the predicament he was in now, but the way he felt for him, all the things he'd never told him that he might now never get a chance to say. He wasn't even sure he had it sorted out for himself. The way he felt about Jimmy was so different from the way he felt about the only other person he'd ever fallen seriously for, that it had taken him awhile to recognize the feeling. Could it really be called love? Love was something he'd only felt at a distance, for mysterious strangers, not for close and intimate friends.

Susanne had been brilliant, mysterious, and elusive, and Byers had felt a strong desire to protect her, but it was hard to win her trust. Sometimes he suspected she had used him. He respected her integrity in trying to blow the whistle on the black ops project for which she'd been developing chemical weapons. But the fact was, she had accepted the black ops money in the first place to pursue her research. It had been easy to forget that little detail when he was with her, but to be honest, that would have bothered him sooner or later if he'd been able to have a long-term relationship with her.

Jimmy could hardly be called brilliant, but he was more open with his feelings than any man Byers had ever known. Byers lived and worked with him and could spend time with him whenever he liked. Jimmy trusted everyone, obviously too much for his own good. And Byers had used *him* in his plan to rescue Langly, and he'd never complained. It was obvious that Jimmy --who had once turned down a job offered as a bribe -- would rather starve than work in a chemical weapons lab. Even supposing, hypothetically, they they offered him a job he was qualified for. Washing test tubes, perhaps. And while Jimmy seemed like he really needed a good friend to protect him from his own foolishness -- something Byers had just failed miserably at --he could see that Jimmy was fiercely protective of him in return. Definitely a two-way relationship.

And whereas he could never have Susanne, he had *had* Jimmy up until now: his constant solid presence, his respect, his utter devotion, and even his affection. Just not the kind of affection he truly wanted from him. He'd never dared to hint at that to him.

Byers turned onto his side, trying to get to sleep. He felt a little ashamed to find himself doing this trade study on the loves of his life, even in the privacy of his own mind. In any case, he couldn't count on seeing either of them again. To keep them both safe, he had to try as hard as he could to find Jimmy. And try equally hard *not* to find Susanne. He shouldn't be sleeping, not with Jimmy counting on him. But he was so tired that he couldn't think straight anymore. As it were.

Holding on to pleasant memories of the good times he *had* had with Jimmy, he was finally able to drift off into a troubled sleep.

////////////

[Saturday afternoon]

Krycek had gotten very quiet again, and once again was fingering Jimmy's little toe thoughtfully. He stood there for a long time, looking more and more unhappy, his face reflecting some inner conflict. Jimmy was too cowed to ask any questions, not with Krycek was in complete control of his body. Suddenly Krycek turned and walked quickly to the bathroom, and after a few seconds Jimmy heard the sound of retching.

A long time passed. When Krycek finally emerged from the bathroom, he walked slowly to his laptop computer and checked something. Whatever he saw seemed to relief him. He sat at the desk for a long time with his eyes closed, then took a deep breath and got up to put on his arm and his jacket. "I've gotta get out of here for awhile," he said. "I'll bring you back something to eat."

////////////

[Saturday afternoon, 30 minutes earlier]

Byers felt worse after his short nap than before it. He took a quick shower, dressed in a fresh suit, and had some coffee, but he still wasn't at his best. Langly filled him in. He'd hit a dead end. He'd managed to sniff out the packets Krycek was using to upload web pages to his server. It was running an FTP server after all, but it was firewalled against packets from most of the world. Unfortunately, the packets were coming from an anonymizer in California, so Krycek's physical location was untraceable.

The next deadline was less than half an hour away. He had no choice. Begging Langly to keep trying every trick he could think of, he sorted through the sixpack and chose one that seemed to involve some simple corporate espionage. It was E-Com-Con; they probably deserved it for trying to invade consumers' privacy. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to steal secrets from them. He knew he was rationalizing. That theft had been to expose a corporate conspiracy. Anyway, that seemed like a lifetime ago. It was before they'd met Jimmy. It was hard to believe there was a time before Jimmy was in their lives.

Normally he could have handled it, or at least had the sense to know when he was out of his depth. Langly was right there if he needed him. But in his exhaustion, he screwed up. He logged in through a back door without too much trouble, although it took longer than he expected. But as he was downloading the required information, something nagged at him. He checked, and realized he'd been detected by a security daemon almost five minutes before. Plenty of time for it to trace his connection. Too late, he called Langly over in a panic. They covered their tracks as best they could and logged out, but they both knew it would do them no good now.

Half expecting either the FBI or some corporate hitman to break down their door within the next five minutes, they were startled when the phone rang instead. He and Langly stared at it wide-eyed, as though it were a snake. Finally Langly answered it. His apprehension turned to surprise a moment after he said "hello."

"How did you-- It wasn't *my* incompetent breakin. It was Byers. But give the poor guy a break. He's-- We weren't *doing* it for money. ... No, *you* listen! Someone kidnapped Jimmy. He made us do this. ... Of course we tried to locate him! ... Yes, as a matter of fact, that did occur to us. Byers got desperate, because we're up against a deadline. Krycek threatened to-- Yes, that's exactly why we were sniffing around that anonymizer site. Krycek's hiding behind it. That one was me. Wait a minute, how did you know-- hello?"

Langly hung up the phone, the connection obviously having been broken in disgust from the other end. "Apparently, the division of E-Com-Con you broke into hired Yves to do their security. It was her that the daemon notified. She had some choice comments about how obvious a trap you fell into."

"I should have let you do it, Langly. But it seemed easy compared to trying to track Krycek down."

"Did you at least get the information? Because that countdown timer is reading twenty seconds."

Fingers trembling, Byers pasted the stolen information into the web form. The numbers hit zero and turned red, counting up, just a few seconds before he hit the Submit button. A dramatic touch, but at least the time Krycek spent setting up that detail was time he wasn't spending torturing Jimmy, or so Byers hoped. He fretted as he waited for the server to respond, willing the server to stop spending precious bandwidth and cycles sending the red digit graphics that were still counting up and spend it on receiving the data and alerting Krycek. He didn't dare try to mess with it at this point. Finally, he got an acknowledgement page ("Your complete submission has been noted.") Less than a minute late. Surely Krycek had waited. All he could do now was hope.

////////////

[Next morning, Sunday, 8am]

Krycek had woken up in a good mood this morning, or whatever time it had been when they'd woken up. That wasn't entirely good news for Jimmy. It meant that instead of the silently brooding Krycek looming at the foot of the bed, occasionally fingering his toe, he had to deal with a playful Krycek determined to torment him just for the fun of it. He used his magic palm-top to do something that completely paralyzed him, and set about tickling him. Every part of his body was unnaturally ticklish once again, but he couldn't resist, couldn't even move a single muscle, except the involuntary muscles forcing laughter out of his burning lungs. It seemed to go on for hours.

////////////////

[Sunday 10:50am]

"I hope I never need to break into *this* site again," Langly said, stretching, and popping open the beer bottle for the assignment he'd just completed. "They're on high alert after that other military site figured out we stole their satellite data. It took forever, tiptoeing around."

"Well, the important thing is that you did it," Byers said. He wished they hadn't been forcef to do this. He was worried about the use the information on secret biochemical weapon research would be put to. Would it be used by other countries to develop antidotes -- or to make their own versions of the weapons? At least they could publish a story about it, now that they could prove the U.S. government was engaging in research they'd denied. Byers knew he was rationalizing.

"Yep," Langly said lazily, sipping his beer. "Made it with ten minutes to spare."

"Are you sure Krycek's beer is safe to drink?"

"Oh, lighten up," Langly said, already taking his last swig. He tossed the empty bottle toward the glass recycling bin, but missed. Fortunately it didn't break, but just rolled away.

"Have you posted it to Krycek's web site yet?" The doorbell had buzzed a moment ago and repeated itself now, but Byers was reluctant to leave Langly's side until he saw the job completed. It was probably Frohike.

"Plenty of time," Langly said, copying the data and pasting it into the form at entirely too leisurely a pace to suit Byers.

"If you guys can't open the door, at least give me a hand with these," Frohike grumbled, awkwardly entering with his hands full. He'd been questioning people around the "neighborhood" yet again, looking for someone who had seen Krycek leave with Jimmy. On the way in, he'd picked up a large stack of the newspapers they subscribed to. Byers realized they'd gotten a few days behind in bringing them in, and it didn't take long for them to grow into a safety hazard outside.

Before Byers could get up to help -- he'd gotten so used to Jimmy leaping up to help with everyone's burdens that he'd gotten out of the habit himself --Frohike's feet flew out from under him and he fell backward, papers flying everywhere. The beer bottle he'd slipped on shot across the floor. It would almost have been funny, but on his way down he knocked a piece of equipment off the table and it crashed to the floor beside him.

"Was that what I think it was?" Byers asked apprehensively. A glance at the screen showed that the browser was still trying to connect to Krycek's server.

"The network router," Frohike said sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind being off--"

"Get the laptop from the van! Quick!" Byers urged. It was the only thing that could be connected to the wireless network in the eight minutes and ten seconds the countdown showed they had left. Already Byers was judging whether it would be faster to type in the data by hand or set up an infrared link to copy it. He starting looking around for the infrared device.

Frohike seemed to understand that seconds counted. He picked himself up with amazing speed, if not grace, and sprinted to the door. On the way, his foot caught on a power cable that the falling router had dragged into the pathway and that the newspapers had covered, and he went down again. Out of the corner of his eye, Byers saw the screen go dark. Its power hadn't been cut off -- that would have been fine -- but the power to the computer supplying its video signal had.

"No!" Langly cried, sounding almost as upset as the time Frohike had wiped out his game by pulling the wrong plug.

"You saved the information to disk, didn't you?" Byers asked, already suspecting the answer.

"I'm sorry, man," Langly said miserably.

////////////

[Sunday 12:05pm]

After finishing the tickle torture, Krycek had checked his watch and gone straight to his computer. Ever since then he'd gotten increasingly moody, and spent a lot of time pacing the room and rechecking his laptop about every five minutes. Finally, taking a deep breath, he went searching for something in his luggage, looking as if he was determined on doing some unpleasant task that had to be done. Then he approached Jimmy, looking very grim. He was holding the small knife that he had nicked him with yesterday. The cut had already just about healed. By the look on his face, he wasn't going to just nick him this time.

"What are you gonna do?" Jimmy asked hoarsely.

"Your friends have missed a deadline. By over an hour."

"So you're gonna kill me? Or just carve me up a little?" Anger overcame fear, but he was too weak to put as much volume into the sarcastic words as he normally would.

"I'm just going to cut off one toe."

Jimmy felt a chill as the horror of that sank in. He'd be mutilated forever. Even worse, the only reason he could think of for Krycek to cut off a toe was to send it to Lone Gunman HQ. What would that do to Langly and Frohike, getting something like that in the mail?

"It's only a toe," Krycek said, almost pleadingly. "Just a little one. You'll be able to walk just fine. It's no worse than what frostbite could do to you. Plenty of mountain climbers lose their toes."

"Yeah, but those guys choose to take the risk. What gives you the right?"

Krycek shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He crouched down at the foot of the bed and held his foot, using his prosthetic hand and two free fingers of the hand that was holding the knife. Jimmy kicked his foot free, and flailed it around so Krycek couldn't catch it. Krycek sighed and went to the palm-top computer and did something. Jimmy's legs went limp.

Once again Krycek knelt down at the foot of the bed and grabbed his foot. He ran his pinky over Jimmy's toes. "Can you feel this?"

"Yeah. It feels normal. Tickles a little."

"I'm sorry. I guess I don't have a setting that blocks feeling. I wish I could turn the pain messages into something else, maybe even pleasure, but I'm not set up for that."

In a way, that would have been even worse, Jimmy felt. To have pieces carved off of him and actually enjoy it! He shivered. Then he tensed as he felt the cold steel resting against the base of his toe. "Don't do this to me, Alex!" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it quick, and it won't hurt all that much."

Jimmy screwed his eyes shut. Clenched his teeth. This was it.

There was a knock at the door.

"Help!" Jimmy cried out immediately. It didn't come out as loud as he'd intended. He took a deep breath to try again, but Krycek quickly stuffed a washcloth back in his mouth. He'd had it ready to staunch the flow of blood, Jimmy realized sickly. But now -- maybe he was being rescued! Talk about the nick of time! Who could it be knocking at the door, but his friends, or maybe the police?

"Housekeeping," a woman's voice called from behind the door, revealing a flaw in his logic.

"Come back later!" Krycek shouted, much more loudly and clearly than Jimmy had managed. There was a pause. Krycek put his hands on Jimmy's foot again.

Then the knock repeated. "Housekeeping," the voice said again. The knob turned, and there was a sound of the door being rattled, but Krycek had double-locked it.

"Go away!" Krycek shouted.

She knocked and called a third time. Then the deadbolt clicked and the door opened a crack. Jimmy's heart pounded even harder. Maybe he'd be rescued after all! She'd surely call the police.

Krycek just muttered "Damn it, they never figure out that those can only be locked from inside."

The door hit the chain. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" The voice had a strong Hispanic accept and sounded vaguely familiar somehow. That was odd, because the only Latinos Jimmy knew well were all guys, and that was back in Long Island.

The door was open an inch, but Jimmy couldn't see out, and with a sinking feeling he realized that that meant the maid couldn't see him either. And if she did get a glimpse of a half naked man stretched out on a bed, there was no reason for her to guess what was going on unless she saw that he was bound and gagged. Maybe not even then; maids probably saw all kinds of stuff. Jimmy desperately tried to cry out, but she didn't seem to hear the muffled sound. The door closed, and Krycek breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you remember what I told you?" Krycek asked him quietly.

Jimmy hoped he was talking about beating him the next time he yelled. The prospect of a few more lashes across his back didn't seem so bad, if it would buy him a reprieve. At least that would heal.

"Roll over," Krycek ordered. Jimmy struggled to comply, but his legs weren't working. Krycek saw his problem and temporarily gave him back his control over his own body. He put the knife aside and got the belt. Then he pulled Jimmy's shorts down.

//////////////////

[Sunday 1pm]

Frohike had been trying for an hour to repair the router and estimated it would take him another hour or two hour to finish. In all fairness, Byers knew, that was fast service and would have made him a highly prized employee at any one of a hundred well-paying companies, if he'd been in that business. It didn't matter, though, because meanwhile Langly had almost finished stealing the data again, using the wireless connection. Armed with what he had learned the first time, it had gone much faster, but not nearly fast enough.

Byers felt useless for the whole hour, but after what happened with E-Com-Con he felt he would only make things worse if he tried to help. His concentration was completely shot now. All he could think about was what the lost hour was costing Jimmy. On the beach, Krycek had hinted darkly about exactly what he would do to him if they missed a deadline. Byers remembered how frustrated Jimmy had been in the long weeks recuperating from a knee injury he'd gotten once in the line of duty. He'd taken it cheerfully enough, but his joy when the cast had come off and he'd finally recovered the full use of his leg had been obvious, at least to Byers. Would Krycek really be cruel enough to rob him of his mobility by cutting off a foot? Or, possibly even worse, would he take something every man instinctively feared to lose? Or would he do something to his face, to ruin his good looks? Byers felt sick. Or would Krycek saw off an arm, to make up for the one that was taken from him -- taken, according to Mulder's theory, by well-meaning kids trying to save him from an even worse fate? Surely that would make a normal man even less willing to put someone else through the same thing, but Krycek was a cold-blooded killer.

"A foot would be even worse," he thought. He saw Langly turn around and realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Relax, Byers. I'll have it uploaded it two more minutes. Maybe he'll give us some slack. We only missed one deadline. And worst case, I'm sure he'll start with something Jimmy doesn't use much."

"Better hope not," Frohike said, without looking up from his repairs. "Removing his brain would kill him immediately."

"Hey, Byers. Come take a look at this, man." The relief was palpable in Langly's voice.

Byers looked over Langly's shoulder. He had the information pasted in and had the mouse over the Submit button To his relief, Byers saw the countdown timer had been reset and showed five minutes left, and new bold lettering had been added: "We still have a complete inventory of parts available! Act now and take advantage of our limited time offer, because they're going fast!" There were pictures below the form, showing Jimmy's muscular body spead-eagle and helpless on the bed, every single part still very much in evidence.

After Langly had clicked the Submit button and the response to the post had come back, he took a well-earned break while Byers carefully backed up to the form and saved the pictures to study later. To search for clues in the background, of course.

////////////

[20 minutes earlier, Sunday 12:30 pm]

After Krycek had finished whipping him, he left him stretched out on the bed on his belly, still unable to move a muscle, while he went back to the laptop and checked the Internet again. Jimmy was able to watch him, since his face was turned that way. He could tell Krycek didn't like what he saw on the laptop. After swearing under his breath, he paused to think --causing Jimmy to steel himself for the worst -- and then began typing. When he approached Jimmy again, it was with a camera instead of a knife. He arranged him face up, with his arms and legs spread, and took another series of humiliating pictures to show to who knows who. Maybe just to the other guys, like he'd claimed, but that would be bad enough.

//////////////////////

[Sunday 2pm]

While Frohike was testing the repaired router, Byers went looking for Langly. He hadn't expected his break to last an hour. He wasn't in the kitchen or the bathroom. He found him in the living room area. Not listening to music or watching TV, just silently sitting and staring at something in his lap.

"What have you got there?" Byers asked him.

"One of Jimmy's comic books he left on the couch," Langly said. "Can you believe the guy still subscribes to comic books at his age?" As Byers took it to flip through it, Langly said quickly, "Don't lose his place." Byers smiled sadly at his friend's optimism.

Laying it down with a sigh, Byers said, "Great. So one of the last things he read before he was kidnapped was a comic book with Jimmy Olsen being rescued yet again by Superman."

"You think he might identify with Jimmy Olsen?"

"Well, given that he's in the same profession and has the same first name, I don't think that would be too much of a stretch."

"I guess he does kinda think of us as his heroes. Too bad he didn't pick a hero with super hearing and X-ray vision, and who can fly."

"Still, we should do our best. Let's check the satellites again." As Langly sat down at a keyboard and started typing purposefully, Byers added, "They may not see in the X-ray band, but they're the best we've got." He sighed. "It's bad enough that we haven't been able to find him, but knowing how much he must be counting on us makes it even worse. I think Jimmy has an exaggerated faith in our abilities."

"I know," Langly said, not missing a beat in his typing. "The guy totally idolizes us."

"But not in quite the way I would like."

Langly's rapid-fire keystrokes suddenly fell silent. Byers looked up and realized Langly was staring at him, rather than at anything on his screen. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Byers said.

"Wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with what you told us a few years ago, that you think you might be bi? I almost forgot about that."

"Forgot? I wouldn't have thought that was something you could forget so easily. Do you know how hard it was for me to work up the courage to tell you guys?"

"Well, sorry, it's not like you talk about sexual feelings often enough to remind me. And it really isn't a big deal."

"It was to Frohike."

"Oh, that bit about how 'gay sex' when he was in college meant the girl was wearing a party hat? That's just Frohike being Frohike. He got over it, and you're still friends."

"He still seems a little uncomfortable with it to this day, whenever I even hint at it. I think that's why I avoid mentioning it."

"Well, it doesn't make any difference to me at all. Who you have your repressed sexual feelings about is none of my business."

"That's a very tolerant attitude for you to take, given that you risked your life to save the last person I had major repressed sexual feelings about."

"Susanne? Sure, I'll be glad to shoot your lovers anytime. Who's next? Jimmy?" When Byers didn't deign to answer, he teased, "So you really do have the hots for him! Are you only turned on by people who've been kidnapped, or have you always felt this way about him?"

Byers answered seriously. "Maybe it's because I've never in my life had anyone look at me the way he does. I didn't know how to deal with it at first, especially coming from just the type of guy that everybody used to idolize in high school as much as they looked down on good students like me. And he's got to be the nicest guy I've ever met."

"Yeah, you two are the softest-hearted guys I know. I'm just a little surprised. I always figured you'd go for someone with brains."

"Well, you can't have everything."

"Tell me about it. I don't have anything. And it's not like I'm holding out for much in the brain department, either, just a couple of decent sized--"

"Langly, sometimes I wonder if you developed a fixation with mammary glands by being forced to milk too many cows."

"And I suppose you developed an early fixation on football players?"

That hit a little too close to the mark. He said stiffly, "I'd rather not discuss it." He'd never told anyone about that crush on the quarterback in high school, the one who'd almost treated him like a human being until his teammates started ribbing him about spending too much time with the faggy nerd.

"Oh. So did you ever tell him?"

"Jimmy? Of course not."

"I'll bet you haven't even told him you're bi."

"I was working up to it. I'm afraid of how he'd react. I think it might shatter his illusions about me."

"You really think it'll bother him just to know you swing both ways?"

"I don't know. Homophobia is certainly something I associate with football players."

"He wasn't bothered at all by Carol."

"That's completely different! A man who loves men is not the same as a person born as a man who should have been a woman."

"I know that. But were any of those homophobic football players cool about your roommate wanting to change sex?"

"You have a point. There's some correlation there. I don't know too many people who are uncomfortable with gay and bi men but comfortable with transgendered people."

"You know what? *I* was bothered by Carol, a lot. But it's not that I have anything against transgendered people. I was just freaked by the thought that this woman I had the hots for was genetically male and surgically altered. Especially since I know they can't give them a real--"

"We've already talked about that, remember?"

"But here's the thing. Jimmy didn't care at all. I think that's because he wasn't the least bit attracted to her. Unlike me and Frohike."

"I assumed he was turned off because he saw right away that she used to be a man."

"What *I* think is that Frohike and I saw a beautiful woman in need of our help, because that's what we wanted to see. Jimmy doesn't seem to think the same way. You think about that."

////////////

[Sunday 2pm]

"Do you think Byers would look good without a beard?" Krycek asked suddenly. He had been in the bathroom, shaving, and still had shaving cream on his face.

"Huh?"

"I was thinking of shaving him."

"Why would you want to do that?" Jimmy asked numbly. Byers could grow it back, he reminded himself. Of all the things Krycek could cut off while he had Byers in his power, this was really a mild threat, not worth getting worked up over. Still, it just seemed like such a violation, for Krycek to presume to alter Byers's appearance. Just another form of control, another way for Krycek to mess with them both.

"It scratches when I make him give me a blow job," Krycek said casually, wiping his face with a washcloth.

Silently, Jimmy fumed. He'd been afraid something like that was going on, on top of everything else he'd been doing to Byers. Krycek wasn't even worthy of having Byers as willing partner, or even a friend, let alone as his sex slave. If there was any justice in the world, he would rot in prison for this, for a very long time. That might not prevent him from having sex slaves, but better he be doing it to other criminals than to a good man like Byers.

"You've probably noticed that yourself," Krycek taunted. But Jimmy recognized that for what it was: meaningless locker-room talk. He knew Krycek was sure that Jimmy would be insulted at the implication that he'd been having sex with Byers. Little did he know that Jimmy considered it exaggerated flattery -- or would if he'd thought Krycek believed it.

"Look, Krycek," he finally said, "if it's a blow job you want, let me do it instead."

Krycek seemed surprised and amused. "You, the big football jock, are offering me a blow job?"

"If that's what it takes to keep you from forcing Byers to do it. In fact, let him go, and I'll do whatever you want."

"I suppose you've had lots of practice?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." That was an exaggeration. He'd actually never done it with a lover, but there'd been that one time he did it on a bet. Somehow an argument got started in the locker room over whether it was true what someone had heard: that men give better blow jobs than women because they knew what felt good. One of the guys boasted that his girlfriend gave the best blow jobs in the world (and no, his teammates were not welcome to a sample), and how no guy's mouth could ever feel as good as a woman's mouth. Somehow, over beers after the game, the guy been goaded into to making a bet. The bet was that if a few guys and his girlfriend each sucked him off, he would be able to tell which was which. Most of the team placed money on the bet, one way or the other, and three of the guys plus Jimmy himself agreed to put their mouths where their money was.

He'd made two hundred dollars off that bet, and never had he felt so gleeful at taking money from blind men's disability checks. Especially with other blind guys getting their share too. He'd invested his winnings in the stock market. He'd picked a some company that sounded lesbian-owned; it had seemed appropriate. Some bookstore starting with an "A," as he recalled. Had to sell it to pay for the printing of *The Lone Gunman,* though.

That night behind the bar had been a lot of fun, both fooling the macho guy and all the warm-ups they did with each other beforehand. With a creep like Krycek, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun, but he'd gladly do to spare Byers. Byers seemed like the type who had only done it for men he really loved, if he'd ever done it at all. Jimmy had certainly felt a lot of affection for all the guys he'd sucked off, even the macho jerk, but it wasn't love, exactly. Maybe could he get through this by pretending Krycek was the nice guy he'd seemed to be at first, trying to start a team for disadvantaged youth.

But he was almost relieved when Krycek laughed disbelievingly and went into the adjoining room, shaking his head. At least he didn't take the razor with him.

///////////////

[Sunday 2pm]

Byers drank yet another cup of coffee, fighting to stay awake. He needed to keep trying to find Jimmy. The sleep he'd skipped over the past few days was catching up to him.

Frohike's coffee was weak and bitter compared to Jimmy's strong, rich, and full-bodied brews. Yet another reason they desperately needed to find him, Byers thought, but the grim humor failed to cheer him up.

What if they never saw him again? Byers wondered if Frohike and Langly expected the three of them to just go on with their lives, just like old times, as if Jimmy had never existed. The three of them had done that for months in the case of Mulder. They'd each thought of him from time to time, of course, but by tacit agreement had stopped discussing what had happened to him, and had gone on with life. But fond as they were of Mulder, he had never exactly been a daily part of their lives.

Maybe Langly and Frohike, after a few months, would go on as if nothing had happened and Jimmy had never existed, but Byers was convinced that he'd never go through a day without being painfully aware of the huge gap left in his life where Jimmy used to be.

//////////////

[Sunday 4pm]

Krycek barely glanced up when Jimmy emerged freshly scrubbed from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was working at the desk, with his laptop and two palm-top computers sitting in front of him. He looked relaxed and unguarded, with his shirt half unbuttoned. Actually, it wasn't rightfully *his* shirt, but another one of Jimmy's shirts. One of his favorites, in fact. He wore nothing underneath, and as usual he'd left his prosthetic arm off.

Instead of going back to his bed, Jimmy walked closer to Krycek.

"What are you doing?" Krycek said sharply, picking up one of the palm-tops.

"Getting a pair of clean shorts," Jimmy said in his best innocent voice, reaching for his own overnight bag.

"Lie down on the bed," Krycek ordered. "When I decide you need shorts again, I'll put them on you myself." He waved the palm-top at him.

Jimmy turned away, making a loud theatrical sigh, at the same time tightening his stomach muscles. The towel slipped down off his hips. "Oops," he said, grabbing it. In one smooth motion, he whirled around and hurled the balled-up towel at Krycek's face.

Krycek clawed it free and was frantically stabbing at the palm-top when Jimmy reached him two seconds later. Krycek's eyes widened in surprise, and he dropped the palm-top on the desk and reached for the other one, muttering, "Damn! Wrong remote!" Jimmy knocked it off the desk, then grabbed Krycek by the armpits and hauled him out of his chair. His muscles protested at being used so suddenly after a long enforced rest, but he had no trouble wrestling Krycek to the ground. In fact, he held back a little, savoring the struggle, the play of muscle against muscle, as Krycek tried unsuccessfully to overpower him. It felt so good to be moving -- to feel his heart pounding to power his muscles and not out of fear, to be matching strength with another man -- that he almost forgot that he was wrestling an enemy and not a friendly opponent.

But after a few minutes he got him firmly under control. He straddled him and pinned his wrist with one hand. Now Krycek was immobilized and Jimmy still had one hand free. Normally he would have felt guilty about that. It seemed unfair, as bad as sneaking up to a blind guy and playfully . . . well, okay, he'd done that a few times too.

Helplessly pinned beneath Jimmy's weight, Krycek didn't seem so menacing. He struggled uselessly, breathing hard. Was that a soft whimper Jimmy heard?

"You're going down, my sneaky spy friend," Jimmy gloated. "I'm gonna call the cops, and they're gonna put you away for a long, long time. But you're not wearing my favorite shirt to jail. I want it back." Jimmy used his free hand to unbutton it the rest of the way. He hauled Krycek to a sitting position and pulled the shirt off his shoulders and over his arm, being careful not to tear it. Then he planted his hand in the center of his chest and pushed him down again, enjoying the feel of his erstwhile captor's panicky heatbeat under his hand. And as long as he had his shirt off, that gave him an idea. He slid his hand up to Krycek's right armpit.

"No-o-o..." Krycek moaned.

////////////

[Sunday 4:05pm]

He knew he had him now; there was no way he was getting away. Jimmy could take his time and savor his victory. After all the indignities he'd been put through, Jimmy wanted to indulge in a little payback before he called the police. Keeping Krycek's wrist firmly pinned above his head, he began tickling him lightly under his arm. He quickly discovered Krycek was more ticklish than Jimmy naturally was. Not the most ticklish guy Jimmy had ever straddled like this, but close. Having his erstwhile captor under him --struggling uselessly, and begging him, between sobs of laughter, to stop the tickling -- was really turning Jimmy on. But if Krycek even noticed that he was being prodded in the stomach on top of his armpit being tickled by Jimmy's fingers, he didn't waste his scarce breath in objecting.

If only Jimmy could think of somethign to interrogate him about, if only as an excuse to prolong the tickling. He wondered if Krycek knew any secrets that anyone would be interested in. He had no idea what questions to ask. But it didn't matter; Jimmy had worse mistreatment to make up for, besides tickling. He stopped and sat up. He watched Krycek slowly catch his breath, staring up at him apprehensively, and tried to decide exactly what he should do to him. He considered using his belt, but that wasn't in reach. But something much better was.

"Before I turn you in, I'm gonna teach you a lesson." He grinned triumphantly down at Krycek, who looked terrified. He leaned over and grabbed the palm-top from under the desk. Studying the controls, he drawled, "You're gonna get a little taste of your own medicine."

The display was surprisingly user-friendly. There was a menu with items labeled Pain 1, Pain 2, Ticklish, Paralysis, and so on. He selected Pain 1. "Please select pain level," it prompted. There was a little slider labeled "Discomfort" to "Agony". He selected a value one notch above "Discomfort" and one below "Suffering." There was also an "Immobilize" section below the slider, with checkboxes for head, arms, torso, and legs, and a "More choices" button. He checked them all. That should hold him while he rescued Byers, assuming he was in the adjoining room he'd seen Krycek enter. If he was being somewhere else, he might need to edge the pain slider up little by little until Krycek told him where. After double-checking the settings, he aimed the pointy part at Krycek's exposed chest and pressed the "Go" button.

Immediately Jimmy's body went limp, and he collapsed on top of Krycek. He felt the man's cheekbone bash him in the chest like a hammer. At the same time, his entire body felt like it had landed in searingly hot water, but he couldn't move to escape from it. He lay there helplessly, feeling Krycek's cheek scraping away at his tender skin like sandpaper as the man tried to wiggle out from under him. Krycek managed to slide his hand free; Jimmy moaned as it scraped painfully along his side. He grabbed Jimmy's shoulder, crushing it in the process (or at least that's what it felt like) and pushed, rolling him onto his back. The carpet felt like wire bristles poking into his side as he rolled over, but felt soft on his back. The front of his body continued to burn painfully.

Then the pain suddenly was gone. Jimmy found he could move his head. The rest of him was still immobilized. Krycek was kneeling beside him, holding the palm-top, breathing like he'd just sprinted fifty yards, sweat running down his chest. Then, as his breathing returned to normal, he started laughing. He held up the palm-top. "Did you think it was a ray gun, Flash? I *told* you how it works. I probably shouldn't have told you anything, but it doesn't seem to have mattered."

"Oh, right," Jimmy said, mentally kicking himself. "Is has something to do with those manodots, doesn't it?" It was obvious now. "Guess I'm not cut out to be a spy."

"Your parents must be so disappointed, after giving you a name like that. Get up."

Jimmy found he could move now, but one leg and one arm dragged uselessly. Krycek made him crawl over to the bed. He struggled up on one knee and awkwardly managed to pull himself onto the mattress. Meanwhile, Krycek had plenty of time to put his shirt back on and button it all the way up.

"Do you want me face up, or on my belly?" Jimmy asked humbly. His back and butt still felt a little sore when he thought about it, and he had a feeling the pain was about to be renewed.

"Face up," Krycek ordered. Jimmy was a little surprised, but then he realized that Krycek didn't need to whip him anymore. He had a much higher tech way to torment him. Sure enough, once he was on the bed, Krycek paralyzed him completely from the neck down. He was helpless to resist as Krycek spread his arms and legs out.

"I could kill you," Krycek told him. "You know that."

Jimmy nodded, swallowing hard. Of course he knew that. Krycek had had him completely in his power from the beginning, except for that one brief chance he'd thrown away a minute ago. Now he was as defenseless as it was possible for a man to be. He was suddenly very aware of his nakedness.

There was a knock at the door. "Housekeeping!" came that voice again.

"Not again!" Krycek grumbled. He quickly made an adjustment on the palm-top.

"There. Can you talk?"

Jimmy tried to respond, but he couldn't make a sound. He tried to shake his head, but it remained turned toward the door, which he had automatically looked at when he'd heard the knock.

Krycek pinched him on the nipple and twisted. It hurt a little, but Jimmy was unable even to grunt or squeeze his eyes shut in reaction. Meanwhile, there was a second knock.

"If you're faking it, if you manage to make a single sound, this time it'll be Byers who gets punished for it. Got it?"

Jimmy tried to nod, but without success.

Krycek went to the door and opened it a little without removing the chain. Jimmy could see a sliver of achingly blue sky. A fresh breeze swirled through the room, and a ray of sunlight slipped past Krycek's dark form blocking the doorway as he looked down at whoever was standing there.

"Oh! I am sorry to disturb you, sir," came the same accented voice he'd heard a few hours ago, "but would you like your room cleaned?"

"No thank you," Krycek said politely, and started to close the door.

"But sir, I finished my other rooms. If I leave one uncleaned, I get in trouble."

"I can explain things to your supervisor, Miss..." he bent down further and leaned even closer to the door to peer at something, "Miss Walsh y Delora. I'm sorry if you had to stay late." He took a bill out of his pocket and handed it out the door.

"But sir--"

"Unless you'd like to explain to your boss why you ignored my Do Not Disturb sign?"

"I am sorry, sir," she said, sounding frightened. "But she tell me to clean all of my rooms before I go for the day."

"Tell you what. Why don't you leave me some fresh towels and take away the used ones. If anyone asks, I'll say the room was cleaned."

"Well--"

He handed more money out the door and said, "I'll be right back with the dirty towels," closing it firmly. "Same damn thing in every hotel in the world," he muttered.

A few minutes later the door was closed for good and they were shut up in the room again. Krycek dropped the pile of fresh white towels on the table by the door and returned to the bedside. "Now, where were we?"

////////////

[An hour earlier: Sunday 3pm]

"Byers! Wake up, man!"

Byers realized he'd fallen asleep at his keyboard. Langly was gently shaking him awake.

"I think I'm onto something. I found a phone that's been making dialup connections at the same time as packets have been going to Krycek's web server."

Byers was instantly wide awake. "That's great! Are you sure?"

"Well, it doesn't prove anything, but the correlation's pretty convincing. It's worth checking out physically, at least."

"Good work, Langly! Superman himself couldn't have done better. Where is it?"

"A motel in Greensbelt."

"The Western Comfort?" asked Frohike, entering the room.

"How the heck did you know that?" asked Langly indignantly.

"Yves just called and asked us to meet her there."

"Looks like Catwoman beat Superman to it," Langly grumbled to Byers.

///////////////

[Sunday 4:30pm]

Krycek had Jimmy by the balls, literally, but so far he hadn't physically hurt him. He'd just made a lot of sickening threats that Jimmy was powerless to react to. Finally he seemed to get tired of that. He put the manodots back into Pain Mode and amused himself by lightly stroking Jimmy on the chest, belly and legs. Each touch on his raw nerve endings set off waves of pain, but Jimmy was unable to react. He couldn't squirm in a vain attempt to evade the merciless fingertips. He couldn't even cringe. Without trying to be stoic, he was taking it all in silence, without so much as a single moan.

After what might have been a minute of that, Krycek sighed. "This is no fun. The only way I can tell I'm getting to you is by your breathing. I like watching your arm muscles flex when I torment you. He handcuffed him back to the headboard and adjusted the controls. Jimmy found he could move again. Krycek reached out and stroked him one more time, and seemed to enjoy watching him thrash around uselessly in reaction. After just a few strokes, though, his tormentor stopped and made another adjustment.

"What are you gonna do to me now?" Jimmy asked, feeling completely defeated.

"I've decided not to punish you anymore. I don't blame you for trying to escape. Anyone would have. And I don't like to hurt men that I like." He ran a finger lightly down the center of Jimmy's chest.

Jimmy gasped. The creep had set it back to "pleasure" again, and the slightest touch brought unwanted waves ecstasy. Jimmy thrashed and tried to knee Krycek. Krycek backed off and did something with the controls, and Jimmy's legs went limp again.

"This should be a good compromise. You don't have to wear yourself out resisting anymore. You've got no choice." He touched Jimmy's helpless body again. Jimmy shivered and bit down on a moan. He didn't want to give Krycek the satisfaction of a response, any more than he could help.

"C'mon, why don't you relax and enjoy it? I might as well set it back to pain mode, for all the gratitude I'm getting."

"You're gonna use this to control other people, aren't you? And you're forcing me to help you try it out."

"Oh, it'll be useful for controlling people, sure. I've even used an earlier version that way, to extort things from a man in a powerful position. That one didn't come out quite right. The nanobots took hold in his cardiovascular system instead of his neural system."

"His cardy-what?"

"His blood vessels. It worked out to almost the same thing, just clumsier. I could push a button, and presto: instant heart attack. I could also cause pain, or cut off his blood flow and make him collapse. But the version you've got gives me much more direct control."

"You gonna offer this guy an upgrade?"

Krycek laughed and patted his stomach, almost affectionately. It felt weird, something like doing a belly-flop, but the sting was replaced by an odd sort of pleasure. The closest thing Jimmy could compare it to was the way his cock felt when squeezed hard by a strong hand.

"Do you expect me to like the idea that you're gonna put other guys through this after you finish experimenting on me?"

Krycek paused, then said, almost bashfully, "I haven't told you the main reason I'm doing this experiment."

"You said--"

"Controlling people is just a useful spin-off application. What I'm really interested in is inventing a cybernetic arm."

"Oh. You mean like the bionic man, on TV?"

"Exactly. A prosthetic arm hooked up to my nerves through nano-machines, so I can actually feel with it!" Krycek sounded enthusiastic, and wistful. "Then I just need to figure out how to do motor control."

"I... I didn't know. Did you invent this stuff yourself?"

"Of course not. I've got connections to a startup company that's doing proprietary -- that means secret -- experiments on worms and frogs, and slowly working their way up to mice. But at the rate they're going, I'll be an old man by the time they get permission to experiment on human subjects." He looked grim. "If I live that long. If anyone on Earth lives that long. So I've been doing it for them, and slipping the researchers data."

"I had no idea that's the reason you kidnapped me."

"Well, it's not. I'm mostly holding you hostage until your friends do a little work for me. But as long as I had you, you were too good to waste." He stroked him again.

It was hard to speak with that going on, but Jimmy managed to get out the words, "I'll make you a deal."

"A deal? You think you're in a position to make a deal?" More stroking.

"Let Byers go, and I'll help you. Willingly. For as long as you need to experiment."

Krycek stopped in mid-stroke and stared at him. "You'd do that? It could take a year."

"Yeah, exactly, and you can't count on holding me prisoner that long. Sooner or later I'd escape. Or someone would find me. Isn't one willing slave better than two unwilling ones? I'd be glad to do it, knowing I was saving Byers. Besides, it's even a good cause. I might have even volunteered for a few weeks in the first placed if you'd just asked nicely when you came in."

"Yeah, right."

"I would have! I *liked* you. And it would be an incredibly cool invention that would help lots of other people like you. I would have wanted to help."

"This is all easy for you to say now, when I have it set to feel good." He traced circles on Jimmy's sensitive belly to emphasize the point. "But it wouldn't always be like this. Remember how you cramped up when I tried motor control mode and it didn't work right?"

"What you're -- oh god! -- doing to me now doesn't feel 'good,'" Jimmy managed to say.

"No?" Krycek's fingers lightly traced a line from his chin to his navel. Jimmy moaned. "Doesn't feel good, eh?" Krycek asked mockingly.

"OK, so it feels good. But it's disgusting!"

"Can't stand the thought of another guy making you feel this good?" he taunted, running his fingers through Jimmy's pubic hair.

"I told ... told you before--"

"Maybe you should close your eyes and try to pretend I'm--"

"What I can't stand is the thought that you've got a man I really care about tied up in another room and that you've been torturing him!" he roared.

"Maybe you should close your eyes and pretend it's actually a decent human being who's touching you," Krycek said quietly.

"I *wish*!" Jimmy thought Krycek looked almost hurt, like he actually cared about his captive's opinion of him. He added honestly, "But you know what? I think you do have a decent streak in you, Alex. I wish I could see more of it."

Krycek actually looked a little ashamed. "You know, it's not often I deal with people like you. I'm used to people who mistrust everyone. But *you*... I break into your secret headquarters and sneak up behind you, and you want to make friends. I kidnap you and torture you, and you still believe I have a streak of decency."

"I guess I do. Or at least, I *want* to believe."

Krycek winced and turned his face away. "Some people," he said, sounding wistful, "are suspicious from Day One, without knowing the first thing about me."

"Maybe they're just a better judge of character than me."

"Somehow I doubt that. No, he's just paranoid."

Jimmy wondered who Krycek was talking about, but didn't interrupt.

"I showed him nothing but friendliness. Well, maybe I was a little too pushy when he tried to take the case away from me. But as far as he knew I was a young agent on one of his first assignments for the FBI -- yeah, don't look so surprised; you knew there's some shady stuff going on in the government -- I was an eager new agent, and all I did was point out that technically it was my case, and insist on going with him. Maybe if I'd come on a little less strong he'd have been a little more trusting, and things could have turned out different."

"Well... sounds to me like you were within your rights. I felt the same way on my first story. Man, I was so excited! When Byers handed me--" He stopped. For a minute there Krycek had almost got him to like him again. "I can't believe you would hurt a man like Byers, take him prisoner, treat him like a slave! Yeah, I trusted you. And look where it got me. I was wrong. No one with a shred of decency would do things like that to anyone, especially not to a man like that."

Krycek was silent for a long time. Was he actually feeling guilty, or was he coming up with some new threat to make against Byers, just to see Jimmy's reaction?

"Let my friend go, Alex," he whispered. "Please. I'm-- I'm begging you." Damn, he was on the verge of crying again.

"Let me show you something," Krycek said quietly. He went and got his laptop and spent a few minutes with the mouse. Jimmy dreaded what was coming next. Krycek was probably about to tell him that he couldn't release Byers, because it was too late. He could be bringing up a coroner's report or a news article right now. Or a later picture, taken after... after...

He disconnected the laptop and brought it over to the bed. Jimmy forced himself to look. It didn't show him any new horrors, just the same picture of Byers that had been haunting Jimmy since Krycek had stuck the original under his nose.

"So you scanned it," Jimmy said tearfully. "You gonna put it on the Internet or something?"

"Watch the picture, Jimmy." He did something with a menu, and the picture was replaced with another picture of Byers. In this one, he was in the same position, but magically healed of every bruise and every cut.

"I don't understand," Jimmy said, staring at his friend's healthy and unblemished skin.

"This one was the original picture. I cropped it from this." Krycek zoomed out to show Byers lying on a beach towel on the sand, wearing swimming trunks.

"So... the first picture you showed me is a fake?"

"Byers is perfectly OK. He was never my prisoner in the first place. I told him to meet me on the beach if he ever wanted to see you alive again."

"So *that's* what it takes to convince the guy to get out in the sun. But, why the beach?"

"Supposedly that was so he couldn't hide any gadgets in his clothes, but really I wanted to get a picture of him in a bathing suit."

"So you could fool me with a fake picture?"

Krycek grinned. "It took about an hour of editing."

"You can do that on a computer? I know you can paste pictures into newspapers, and fiddle with the color balance and stuff, but making up a fake picture?"

"You're working for too honest a newspaper. With the right software, you can do almost anything to a picture. See, here's a picture of you. I can make your skin look green, like this... Even distort it make you look thin as a post."

"Cool!" Jimmy said, impressed despite himself. "But that wasn't a printout you showed me. It was a real picture!"

"I have a printer in the next room that can print right onto photographic paper, the same type a film development lab would print onto. It's just another kind of paper stock."

"So Byers isn't in the next room? That's--" he stammered excitedly, "This is-- Byers is really okay?"

"You look awfully happy for a guy who's been kidnapped," Krycek observed with a grin.

"And Langly, and Frohike?"

"I haven't touched a hair on any of their--" Krycek stopped short, and chuckled. Jimmy wondered if he saw something funny about Langly's hair. "Um, let's just say I haven't hurt them or kidnapped any of them. As far as I know they're safe at home right now."

"Oh, man, is that a relief!"

"Still think I'm such a bad guy?"

"Can I have my shorts back now?"

Krycek laughed. "OK, as a gesture of good faith." He pushed Jimmy's feet together. The touch of his hand on Jimmy's bare feet made itself felt all the way up to his knees. The feel of the soft cotton shorts being slowly drawn up his legs and over his pelvis was almost too much to stand.

"Feel a little less naked now?"

"Not really," Jimmy admitted, every nerve still tingling. The parts of his body that were still exposed felt every bit as sensitive as anything that had been covered.

"It's too bad I don't really have Byers. It might have been fun to see how he reacted to the nanobots in pleasure mode."

"Why did you tell me you had him?"

"I had to do something to keep you under control until the nanobots took hold. Would you rather I'd held a gun to your head and threatened to blow your brains out?"

"Yes."

Krycek looked taken aback. "Well... *I* wouldn't have enjoyed it nearly as much as I enjoyed messing with your mind. And I'm in charge here." He ran his finger lightly down Jimmy's chest again.

"Wait. You thought you could control me better if you had Byers tied up in the next room? That doesn't make sense. It just made me try to take you out so I could rescue Byers."

"Why do you think I did it, then?"

"I think you enjoyed having that much extra power over me. Making me suffer. You've got a real mean streak in you."

Krycek laughed nastily. "Just a streak?"

"Well, yeah. Like I said, I don't think you're that bad a person deep down. I think other people have hurt you, and you're trying to get back at them. Like, maybe you were kidnapped yourself once."

"I suppose you could say that. Technically. Yeah, I was beaten up and kidnapped by an agent of a foreign government."

"Wow!"

"Twice. Once at the Hong Kong airport. Where are the local authorities when you need them? And once..." He shut up, seeming upset by the memory. Jimmy noticed that his eyes flicked down to his missing arm.

"Does it have to do with how you lost your arm?" he asked gently.

"Yeah." He drew a ragged breath. "And the thing of it is, I still respect the guy who got me into that situation. He and I, we're really after the same thing. We just go about it differently."

"What do you mean?"

"We're both trying to prevent some really horrible things from happening. Things that most people don't want to believe are even possible. They're living in their safe little illusory world where nothing really bad ever happens, while some of us are fighting behind the scenes to stave off a nightmare." He sighed. "And I've had to do some horrible things in that fight. Things I'm not proud of."

"To that foreign agent?" Jimmy asked eagerly.

"No. Never to him. I've had to... hurt some of the people around him. To protect him. But I've never wanted to hurt him. I hope I never get desperate enough--"

Jimmy was surprised to realize that Krycek was actually weeping. He turned his face away now to hide it, but Jimmy could still hear it in his voice. Very softly, he said, "It's okay to cry in front of me, Alex. I'm not gonna tell anyone." Thinking about that, he added wryly, "Especially seeing as how you're gonna kill me."

Krycek laughed and cried at the same time. "I'm not gonna kill you, Jimmy. You're no threat. The one man who I really need to kill is the one man I--" and he broke down again. Jimmy let him cry. There was only so much comfort he could offer while chained to a bed with his legs paralyzed.

Finally Krycek calmed down. He looked around the room, maybe for a box of tissues, but the only tissues were in the bathroom. Instead, he spotted the pile of clean fluffy white towels that the maid had made him take. He went over and grabbed a small one from the top and wiped away his tears.

Then he dropped it and doubled up, choking and scrubbing at his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Jimmy asked.

Krycek didn't answer, but groped his way back to the nightstand. He took his hand away from his eyes, which were shut and streaming far more tears than before, long enough to feel around for the palm-top. He fumbled with it, trying to hold it and work it one-handed, and dropped it. It bounced off Jimmy and came to rest propped up against his armpit. Jimmy managed to grab it with his mouth and transfer it to his hand.

At that moment, the door lock clicked, and the door was opened a crack by someone on the outside. Some kind of gadget on a pole poked in through the opening.

Before Krycek could get it back, Jimmy smashed the controller against the headboard as hard as he could. That wasn't as hard as he would have liked, because of the limited windup the handcuff chain allowed him, so he tried again. One the second smash, the pointy part broke off. On the fourth smash, the screen went dark. On the seventh, the whole thing fell apart in his hand. Satisfied, he watched as the gadget poking in past the door felt around and grabbed the chain and slid it back. The door opened all the way, revealing the three faces he wanted to see more than anything else in the world. The guys rushed into the room and grabbed Krycek, who was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing at his eyes with the edge of the sheet Jimmy was lying on.

"Oh, man, am I ever glad to see you guys! How'd you do that? He was wiping away his -- um, his sweat," Jimmy said, remembering his promise just in time, "and he just doubled over and started clawing at his eyes."

"Chalk it up to the latest in chemical magic," Frohike said.

"It's basically powdered tear gas," Byers explained.

"And it's got the Good Housekeeping seal of approval," said Langly.

"She tricked me!" Krycek said, still wiping his eyes. "How much did you pay her?"

"She drove a hard bargain," Langly said. "We promised her the data from your laptop. And we get nothing. As usual!"

"I wouldn't say we get nothing," Byers said, looking at Jimmy.

"What would a maid--" Krycek began. Frohike punched him in the stomach, hard, ordering him to shut up.

"Hey, go easy on him!" Jimmy pleaded. "He roughed me up a little, but nothing too bad." This wasn't like Frohike, to hit a man when he was down. Jimmy tried to swing his legs over the bed, but found that they still didn't respond. That was strange. He'd smashed the controls. He glanced at the broken pieces, but it was obvious they didn't need any more smashing.

"That wasn't for you, it was for Scully. This is the man who murdered her sister. In Scully's apartment, thinking she was Scully." He kicked him. "He also killed Mulder's father."

"The authorities will see that justice is done, Frohike," Byers told him gently, putting a hand on his arm to forestall another punch. But instead of placing himself between Frohike and Krycek, he stepped over to Jimmy's bed and leaned over him anxiously, his hand resting on the sheet just inches from Jimmy's bare shoulder. Jimmy looked up into those blue eyes he'd been afraid he'd never see again. Byers looked haggard, and the knot in his tie was slightly askew.

"You look like hell, buddy," Jimmy told him hoarsely. That was only half the truth. His familiar features were also the most beautiful sight in the whole world right now. But he looked like he'd been through something worse than Jimmy had. "Are you okay? Krycek told me he was lying about having captured you too. Or was he lying about that?" He paused to try to untangle the convoluted thoughts of whether a liar can lie about lying, then gave up. "He showed me how he faked the pictures on that computer there."

"What are you talking about?" Langly asked. He let Frohike sit on Krycek while he inspected the laptop. After a few seconds Langly said, "You were fooled by this crappy work, Jimmy? The lighting is totally fake looking."

Byers went to look over his shoulder, and winced at what he saw on the screen. He looked back at Jimmy with that look of compassion Jimmy had seen him give to so many people.

"This doesn't even look like real blood," Langly continued.

"Langly!" Byers said warningly. Langly shut up. Byers went back to Jimmy. "Krycek never had me," he said gently. "The picture is a fake. If I look tired, it's just that haven't been sleeping much lately."

"Because of me?" Jimmy was touched.

"Because of you. And now I have you back. I mean, *we* have you back. There's nothing wrong with me a good night's sleep can't cure. The important thing is, are *you* okay? This must have been pure hell for you."

"It was no picnic, but he didn't mess me up half as bad as what he made it look like he did to you."

"He did torture you, then?" Byers asked grimly, glancing at Krycek, whose arm was being twisted behind his back by Frohike.

"Believe me, the worst thing he did to me was convince me he was torturing you. Sure, he roughed me up a little, but it coulda been worse. Don't you think you should get him a wet washcloth to wipe his face?"

"Langly? Could you see if you can find an untainted one, or a tissue?" When Byers turned back to Jimmy, he hesitated, then admitted, "I was really afraid for you. Are you sure you're okay?"

Then he did it. He put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder. Man, this was intense! The manodot stuff had definitely not gone away when he smashed the control. The warmth of the friendly touch radiated down his chest, rippled through his stomach, tingled in his groin, bounced back to sizzle up his sides, and wrapped around his neck like a hot washcloth. At the same time, the firm pressure of his friend's hand went right through his shoulder muscles, through his armpit, and spread down his chest. His whole chest felt the illusion of flesh pressed against flesh, as though Byers had gathered him up in his arms and was pressing their bodies together. After taking off the jacket and shirt he was wearing. And all he'd done was put a hand on his shoulder!

Jimmy had never felt anything like it. It was like the difference between a teammate patting you on the shoulder on the field when you're wearing shoulder pads, and the same teammate resting a warm hand on your bare shoulder in the locker room. After all, there's a good reason that the shoulder is not a football player's favorite place to pat his teammates. Now Jimmy felt like he'd been wearing invisible shoulder pads all his life, and Krycek had forcibly stripped them away. Maybe he'd done it for his own reasons, like because he wanted to torment Jimmy. But it was worth it now, just to feel the touch of a friend with nothing in the way! He heard himself moaning, and realized he'd squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate on the feeling. Then he felt the waves of sensation begin to ebb and realized Byers had taken his hand away.

"Does that hurt? Did Krycek break your shoulder?" He whirled around and took a step toward Krycek, who was smirking at him.

"No," Jimmy gasped. "It's-- oh man, you have no idea."

"Let's get you out of this, and we'll take a look. Where's the key, Krycek?" A minute later he had him uncuffed. Seeing the marks the cuffs had made in his wrists -- little did he know that those were from Jimmy struggling to get loose when Krycek had claimed that Byers was his prisoner -- he took Jimmy's wrist between hands and began rubbing circulation back in. "Sorry, I know this hurts." It didn't hurt. Just the opposite! He could hardly believe it was only his wrist that was being rubbed. The part about blood rushing through his veins in response to his friend's touch was easy enough to believe, though. He half expected to feel the arm to fill up and get three times as long, just like the other body part it felt like. And then, just when he thought he couldn't take any more, he felt him start on the other wrist! Oh, man! To have two of them!

"Sorry. All over. Just rest there a minute, and I'll get your clothes," Byers said. Carefully avoiding his shoulder, he patted him in the middle of his chest. Jimmy arched his body involuntarily, and Byers jerked his hand away.

"Krycek! What have you done to him?" Byers demanded over his shoulder, without moving from Jimmy's side.

"He injected me with these manodot thingies," Jimmy was finally able to explain. "They let him shoot different stuff at me from his palmtop computer. The last thing he did made me really sensitive. It feels like..." He lowered his voice for Byers alone; this was something he was embarrassed to say out loud. "The entire front of my body is as sensitive as -- well, the underside of my cock," he whispered.

Byers recoiled a little and stared at his hands. "I'm sorry, I had no idea!"

"The trouble is, it's also keeping my legs from moving."

"Can you feel them?" Byers asked, sounding alarmed. He put his hand on Jimmy's leg.

"Ah! Oh man, can I ever! I just can't move them. I thought that when I smashed the controls, everything would go back to normal."

"Oh, Jimmy..." Byers said despondently.

"It always works that way in the movies," Jimmy said lamely.

"Well, in real life," Langly put in, "it means you're stuck with whatever setting the nanobots were in, and there's no way to control them,"

"You mean I'll be this way for the rest of my life? My legs, and, and the rest?"

Byers sighed. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this, Jimmy. We assumed Krycek would use the towels the next time he took a shower, so he'd be empty handed. We're lucky he didn't go for the knife. Well, relatively lucky."

Jimmy pictured Krycek being naked, dripping wet, and shivering right now on top of everything else, and almost felt sorry for him. But at least he wouldn't have dropped the controls right where Jimmy could smash them.

"I can reset the nanobots," Krycek said suddenly. "I have the command codes memorized. I can program my other palmtop to shut them off."

"At what price?" Frohike growled.

"All you have to do is let me walk away."

"Murderer!" Frohike said, wrenching Krycek's arm.

"You need me, or your friend will never walk again," Krycek said through gritted teeth.

Frohike sighed and eased up on the pressure.

"Looks like Krycek is going to get away scott-free," Langly observed. "As usual! And all thanks to Mr. Smash Everything You Don't Understand."

"Maybe not." Everyone looked at Byers, who went on thoughtfully, "No one would design an experimental system to stay in its last commanded mode in case of communication failure." While Jimmy was trying to work that out, Byers looked directly at him and explained, "Think of a cell phone. If you destroy it in the middle of a call, the system breaks the connection a few seconds after it loses the signal."

"Wow! How do you know all this stuff?" Jimmy asked him, impressed as always.

"I've read the specs, so I know the theory. Also, I've seen it happen once or twice while I was talking to Mulder." He turned to the others. "There must be a command loss timeout. That's how autonomous spacecraft are designed. Nanobots would be designed the same way. They'll go into a neutral 'safe mode' if they don't hear any commands after a set period of time."

"Is that true, Krycek?" Frohike demanded, twisting his arm again. Krycek clammed up.

Langly went to the desk and disconnected and untangled some computer cables. He began winding them around Krycek's ankles. "Let's leave him tied up here for a few hours with Jimmy. If Byers is right, the paralysis will time out and Jimmy can kick his ass."

"No!" Krycek said. "Byers is right." Jimmy felt a little insulted at the panic in his voice, like he was sure Jimmy would tear him limb from-- well, limb from torso. Sure, he'd like to even the score a little. Maybe a few lashes with his belt, to match the stripes Jimmy could still feel as a dull ache across his back and his butt. But all in all, his former captor would probably be better off left to Jimmy's mercy than anyone else's. He'd been the one to tell Frohike to go easy on him. Frohike still looked about ready to kill him. Jimmy would settle for humiliating him.

"What's the command loss timeout?" Byers asked him. Even Byers, compassionate and ethical Byers, looked like he wanted to carve Krycek into little pieces. Someone had already carved one big piece off of him, and Jimmy felt that was enough for one lifetime.

"Half an hour from the time it was smashed," Krycek whispered.

"I think we're better off waiting it out before we move Jimmy," Byers said. "We'll attract less attention if he walks out than if we have to carry him."

Jimmy imagined how it would feel right now to have Byers's hands gripping him under his ultra-sensitive armpits while Langly took his limp but equally sensitive legs. He shivered with pleasure at the thought. And if they dressed him first ... all that cotton sliding over him, the hands everywhere...

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," Byers said. "I know you must want to get out of this room. We can at least get Krycek out of your sight."

Frohike and Langly hauled their prisoner roughly to his feet.

"Will you be okay staying here for just another twenty minutes or so, Jimmy?"

"As long as you stay with me, Byers."

"Of course," he said, taking his hand. "Oh, sorry. Your hand too?"

Jimmy squeezed his friend's hand firmly to try to keep him from letting go. The pressure felt better than a warm embrace along his entire body. A warm, naked embrace. His fingertips could feel every soft hair on the back of Byers's hand, and could sense the blood pulsing through it. It tingled all the way down to his shoulder. His own pulse tried to race to keep up with his friend's heatbeat.

"You're a lucky man, Byers," he heard Krycek say.

"What do you mean?" he heard Byers ask him, but he didn't hear an answer.

Hearing the door open, Jimmy opened his eyes to gaze longingly at the brief glimpse of invitingly blue sky. Later, he told himself.

"I have information you'll really want to hear," Krycek was saying as they left. "It would be a big mistake to turn me in." The door closed.

He was alone with Byers. Same room, but it no longer felt at all like a prison. Simon had been so right!

Byers squeezed his hand and let go. "Just hang in there another fifteen or twenty minutes. I know you must want to get out of this room more than anything else in the world."

"You know, you're wrong about that, Byers," Jimmy said. "There's something else I want a whole lot more."

"Something you can have right now?" Byers leaned over him.

"I sure hope so, buddy." He watched to see if Byers would take the hint, and also to see if he objected to the familiarity. He didn't exactly see himself as Byers's equal, but they'd been through so much together that Jimmy was beginning to feel he deserved to use the word.

Byers didn't seem to mind being called his buddy, but he seemed slow to figure out what Jimmy's desire was. "Whatever it is, you deserve it, after what you've been through. Is it something I can get for you?"

"Sorta." He grinned hopefully at his friend.

Byers raised his eyebrows and waited for him to explain. He could be really dense about certain things.

"For the next fifteen minutes, the whole front of my body is a sensitive as the underside of my cock. How often does a man get a chance like this?"

"Oh... You want to be alone for awhile." Byers was blushing. "I thought you said--"

"Um, no. I don't know how to put this..." He hadn't expected him to be so clueless about this. Byers was usually the first one to put the clues together, like that thing about the loss timer. "I, uh, kinda thought you might help me out here."

"I don't think there's time to hire someone, if that's what you mean," Byers said uncomfortably. "I would if I could. The very best."

"I don't want some stranger!"

"Well," he said doubtfully, "Yves is still here, but I don't think--"

The thought of letting Yves see him like this did not appeal to him at all! "Um, Byers? What I'm getting at is..." This was hard to say, since he wasn't sure Byers wanted to hear it. But he was sure being slow-witted at picking up on Jimmy's hints. So it was the direct approach, or nothing. He reached up and squeezed his friend's shoulder, feeling the expensive fabric and the muscle underneath. "It feels good... it's hard to explain, but it feels good when *you* touch me."

Byers's jaw dropped. OK, so now he understood.

Jimmy let his fingers stray to the nape of his friend's neck, just above the starched collar. "It's indescribable. I wish..." Impulsively, he unknotted Byers's tie. "I wish there was some way I could make you feel the same way." He pulled the tie off, the silk sliding sensuously against his hand.

Byers stood up and backed away a few steps. Then he rushed over to the door.

Oh man, now he'd done it! He'd screwed up everything. This was exactly why he'd been afraid to say anything all this time. It was so important to him to be able to work alongside these guys, where he could really make a difference in the world, that he'd been afraid to lose it by making a pass at Byers. Now he'd lost that, and Byers's friendship, and everything in the world that mattered. He'd sacrificed what could have been a lifetime of friendship, all for a few minutes of pleasure. For a minute it'd seemed worth a try, and he didn't exactly have all day to work up to it before the effect wore off. But man, what a stupid gamble! Why would he think a man like Byers would ever be interested in someone like him, even if he was gay? "Byers--" he began, but his voice caught in his throat. He struggled to a sitting position.

Byers was at the door. He didn't reach for the doorknob. He picked up the dangling chain and attached it, then double-locked the deadbolt. Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief and watched as Byers peeked through the drapes, staring down at something and muttering, "Good, she took the bug away," then fiddling with them to make sure they were completely drawn. After checking the door to the adjoining room carefully, he turned back to Jimmy, looking nervous. "Jimmy..." he began.

Jimmy didn't want to push his luck by opening his mouth again, but finally, when Byers didn't go on, he said tentatively, "If you feel weird about this, you don't need to do it just cause you feel sorry for me."

"It's not that, Jimmy. It's just the opposite."

"The opposite?" Could that possibly mean what he wanted it to mean?

"I feel I'm taking advantage of you. I wouldn't exactly call this an appropriate time."

"The clock's ticking, buddy. You gonna just stand there with the ball in your hands?"

Byers blushed again. "It's just that I can't believe you know what you're asking. Why now, of all times? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I spent a lot of time thinking of what I missed most, being held captive. And if he killed me, what I would feel sorriest about never having done. Or said. Like: Do you know how crazy I am about you?"

"You've always said how much you admire the three of us."

"Well, that's sure true. I still can't believe I have the privilege of working with you guys. *All* of you, dedicating your lives! Fighting for the lost causes! You're my heroes. But *you*, Byers. You're the only one who actually believes you can *win* those lost causes. And you really seem to care about the people you help. Even me."

Now Byers approached him, and knelt by his side. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"I think my face still feels like it usually does," Jimmy suggested.

Byers reached out and tenderly touched his cheek. "How's that feel?"

"Normal." He grinned. "Natural."

Byers took his hand away, looking uncomfortable.

"Maybe we should just shake hands." Jimmy offered an outstretched hand, grinning.

Byers looked amused. "I see. Why have the appearance of impropriety when you can have the real thing and make it look innocent?" He took Jimmy's hand in a standard handshake grip, but of course it didn't feel at all like a standard handshake. Jimmy closed his eyes and sighed in pure contentment. Then his eyes flew open as he felt a new sensation: Byers was stroking the palm of Jimmy's hand with his thumb. He moved up to the wrist, then along his inner arm. Jimmy moaned. But Byers stopped entirely too soon.

"Can I really make you feel that good just by touching your arm?"

"You can make me feel good just by smiling at me like that."

"Then I'll have to try to smile at you more often. I like making you feel good."

"Well, I'll tell ya, you're never gonna have an easier time making me feel good than right now."

"Jimmy..." Byers said with an exasperated sigh.

"C'mon! Just a little more? Please?"

Byers smiled. "Did I ever tell *you* how much my heart melts whenever I see that puppy-dog expression?"

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

Byers gave an affectionate laugh. He reached out hesitantly, looked at him for encouragement, and then stroked his fingertip down Jimmy's chest. Jimmy gasped, his back arching. The pleasure was so intentse he actually blacked out for a few seconds.

////////////

[4:45pm]

Byers withdrew his hand and stared at it in wonder as he watched a spasm of pleasure run through his friend's body. Did *he* do that, with a simple touch? While Jimmy still had his eyes squeezed shut, he stuck his hand down his own pants and made a quick adjustment. His own body was responding to the intimacy in a way that was getting uncomfortable. He waited until Jimmy recovered his voice.

"Oh man! That was incredible! I thought felt good when Krycek touched me -- I didn't want it to, but those manodot things were in control. When you do it, it's like ten times more intense."

"Jimmy... The nanobots can't tell the difference between my hand and Krycek's. They don't know that Krycek was doing it to humiliate you and I'm doing it because I... because you asked me to. They're just blindly amplifying whatever nerve signals they receive."

"Oh yeah? I know you know a lot more about science than I do, Byers, but you can't tell me that science is gonna explain how I feel when you touch me."

He was right. Jimmy's body wasn't some kind of simple stimulus-response machine, but a very complex organism with all kinds of feedback mechanisms that science couldn't pretend to model. Byers had retreated into reductionism because he was afraid to accept what Jimmy was telling him. It just seemed too good to be true. He'd been attracted to Jimmy for a long time, but it had never occurred to him to admit it to him. He knew Jimmy well enough to be sure he'd never react violently if he told him, the way some stereotypical football player would. But what would happen to that fierce, innocent devotion if he found out his hero lusted after his strong young body? Honesty would have been nice, and maybe after he'd known him a few more years he would have told him, and hoped he'd be understanding. The last thing he expected was for Jimmy to be interested in him too, let alone for him to be the one to take the initiative. It must be only Krycek's nanobots were amplifying his physical reactions until he didn't know what he wanted.

He noticed Jimmy had a bulge in his shorts to match his own. He could try to explain it away with signal processing theory. Krycek could even have injected him with alprostadil, which would cause an erection whether he was aroused or not. But the simplest explanation was that Jimmy really was turned on by his touch, at least as much as Byers was by touching him.

"But if it makes you feel better," Jimmy interrupted his thoughts, raising his voice mockingly the way he occasionally did when he got worked up about something, "you can hook me up with some electrodes to measure my reactions while you touch me."

"Jimmy!" Byers protested laughingly.

"Sheesh, no wonder you never get any dates, dude!"

"I just can't believe you're in control of your feelings right now. What you're feeling could be an emotional reaction to what you've just been through. Or for all we know, Krycek hypnotized you, or gave you some, some kind of drug to make you think you're attracted to me." Great. Now he recognized who he sounded like. Here he was, trying to find a rational explanation for Jimmy's feelings, when human emotions were never rational. He sounded just like Scully. It was typical of Scully, at least to hear Mulder tell it, to try to explain how the alien spaceship they were standing right in front of was really some experimental military aircraft lit up by swamp gas.

"You think he mixed up some kind of love potion?" Jimmy asked. He didn't sound skeptical or worried; he seemed filled with wonder at the possibility that they had uncovered some cool new use of biochemistry. What a guy!

"When you put it like that--" Byers began sheepishly.

"Is that even possible?"

"Well, probably not."

Jimmy was silent for a moment. Then he asked softly, "Suppose it was. Could it affect my memory too?"

Byers was taken aback. For the first time, he entertained the notion that this wasn't entirely some new impulse Jimmy had had while he was in Krycek's clutches. He thought back, reinterpreting dozens of affectionate gestures and looks. At the time, he'd never dared hope... Finally he asked, "Did you really mean what you said about admiring my idealism?"

"Like I would lie to you! Yeah, I just never wanted to single you out, cause I was afraid you'd freak out if you knew. It seemed safer to talk about all three of you together. But you're the one who really believes this country can work, if men of integrity fix what's wrong with it," he said earnestly. "I love that about you." He grinned. "Plus, I think you're really hot."

He couldn't mean that. "Oh, come on. I'm not--"

"Oh, man, if you only knew how hot you really are! Although I wish I got to see you out of that suit more often. I had to walk into Death Row to get to see you naked. Worth it, though."

"I'm glad you can joke about it now," said Byers, laughing. He poked him in the ribs, and Jimmy moaned in pleasure as the nanobots translated the playful touch into some more erotic sensation. Byers jerked his hand back again, embarrassed. Jimmy looked at him, silently pleading for more.

This was too good to be true. Getting Jimmy back again, alive and healthy, was all he'd hoped for. To suddenly find out that he wanted the same thing Byers had longed for was too much to accept. But how could he resist that well-muscled body laid out helplessly before him, and that look in those big gray-blue eyes, hungry for his touch and his alone. How could he deny him that? And Byers wanted very much to find some way to communicate to him how good it felt to see him safe. He'd spent his whole life holding back, imagining how bad the other person would feel if his attentions were unwelcome. He had to take a chance sometime.

He leaned down slowly, watching Jimmy's face closely, just for the sheer delight of seeing his eyes light up when he saw what was coming.

/////////

The first thing Jimmy felt was his friend's warm breath, which seemed to flow over his entire chest like a jungle breeze, stirring every hair along the way. Impossibly, it even slipped under his shorts; he felt it caress his pelvis and travel down his legs all the way to his toes. Then came the brush of soft whiskers against his belly, which set waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Then he felt his lips against his skin. Like a pebble tossed into a still pond, the light kiss sent out ripples all the way up to his shoulders and all the way down to his crotch. Before they died out, another kiss at another spot set out a set of overlapping ripples, and then another. At the same time, one hand reached up and caressed his chest. Jimmy wanted badly to get his own hands under Byers's shirt, or stroke his hair, or the back of his neck, anything to return the affection, but he was so helpless under the onslaught of pleasure that he might as well have still been chained up. Byers slowed down now, as if to give him time to feel every individual kiss. His lips were barely touching Jimmy's skin at each place they came to rest.

Then, without warning, he used his tongue! Jimmy wasn't even sure where. It felt like his whole body had been enveloped in warmth. If he'd been shrunk down to the size of an action figure and Byers had stuck his naked body in his mouth up to the shoulders, it would have felt a lot like this.

When he came back to his senses, he saw a welcome sight: Byers was standing up and stepping out of his pants, dressed only in his underwear, and very obviously turned on by this too. He then peeled off his undershirt, and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his socks. Jimmy enjoyed the view of his back -- not an athlete's back, but well-muscled enough -- and reached out to feel its warm solidity with his sensitized fingertips. Then Byers was climbing onto him, carefully lowering his bare chest down until it rested on Jimmy's own.

If the illusion of skin-to-skin contact along the entire length of his body had felt good, the reality was even better. He could almost count every hair on his friend's chest where it brushed his skin. Not that it was an especially big number. He could probably have even counted that high, under ordinary circumstances, but he was too busy enjoying the sensation to concentrate on math. With their bodies in contact, he felt on some deep level that he'd never be cold or lonely again. He didn't think it was physically possible to get closer to someone than this. And he couldn't have asked for a better man to do it with. This was too good to be true, lying here with him like this. His hero, maybe the smartest and most compassionate man he'd ever met, cuddling up with *him*! He wrapped his arms around Byers and hugged him so tight that he felt the man's muscles suddenly tense up in pain. "Sorry," he whispered, his lips stretching into a grin against Byers's ear. He ran his fingers lightly down his friend's spine. Even without the benefit of Krycek's little toys, Byers shivered in response. The shiver transmitted itself into Jimmy's body and stimulated him all over. He squirmed, and their sweaty bodies slid pleasurably against each other, which set him off even more. He'd never experienced such intense pleasure without coming. He must be close. Byers began kissing his shoulder, which he felt all the way down to his fingertips. Byers began working his way slowly down his chest. The feeling kept building.

Then suddenly, nothing. Byers was kissing the center of his bare chest, and he hardly felt it. He might as well have been wearing six layers of clothes.

"What's wrong?" Byers asked, looking up. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. It wore off. All of a sudden. No warning."

"The nanobots must all be running off molecular clocks and synched to each other."

He bent his knees slightly and wiggled his feet. "At least my legs work again."

"Want to see if you can walk now?" His sky-blue eyes looked down at Jimmy questioningly, seeming to plead with him to stay. A minute ago Jimmy had been eager to run outside into the sunlight and enjoy his freedom. But he could do that anytime. This moment with Byers might never come again.

"It can wait. I'd rather lie here with you awhile longer, if that's okay."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Really?" Jimmy hugged him, feeling only the faintest echo of the feeling of physical closeness he'd had before. "Man, it feels I'm like wearing armor, by comparison."

"Evolution designed us to be armored against the world."

"Yeah, I guess so." He nuzzled Byers's neck and inhaled his scent. At least he could still appreciate his other senses, which had never been revved up. They cuddled quietly for a little while.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a few days before I stop waking up from nightmares that he still has you," Byers said softly. "I imagined all kinds of tortures he was putting you through, even worse than the reality."

"You and me both. He really had me convinced he had you too." Before he thought better of it, he added half jokingly, "Maybe if we sleep next to each other for awhile, that won't happen."

To his delight, Byer's reply was "Sounds good to me." He sounded as surprised as Jimmy felt.

"Man," Jimmy murmured, "it's gonna be so great to get outside later today and be able to do stuff again. I think I want to spend the whole day tomorrow outside, doing stuff." He added shyly, "I'm hoping you'll do some of it with me."

"Oh, I think we can find some physical activities we enjoy doing together."

"That'll be fantastic," Jimmy whispered, excited at the idea of doing some fun things together with the man he was holding. Find a park and maybe toss a football around, or a Frisbee, or just go running. The possibilities were endless.

"Um, Jimmy?"

"Mmm?"

"I had a particular activity in mind. An indoor sport."

"Basketball?"

"No. What I'm trying to get at is, I'll bet there's one part of your body that's still as sensitive as the underside of your cock."

"Really?" No part of his body felt any more sensitive than normal.

"Yes. Exactly as sensitive." Byers scooted down and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Jimmy's shorts.

"Oh." Now he got it: it was a riddle. *What part of your body is exactly as sensitive as the underside of your cock? Answer: the underside of your cock.* He said, "No way, buddy!"

"Oh, sorry, I thought--"

"It's your turn now."

"Oh. No, look, I want this to be for you, Jimmy. You're the one who--"

"Your turn!" Jimmy insisted, rolling their bodies over so that he was on top. Byers grunted and put up what Jimmy suspected was just a token resistance, but it was hard to tell. Man, it felt good to be able to move again! But not half as good as it felt to have a nearly naked Byers squirming under him. Soon to be completely naked. He grabbed his opponent's shorts. There was a brief uneven struggle, both of them laughing softly, and then Byers's shorts were in Jimmy's hand, and both his arms were pinned over his head by the other hand. Jimmy waved the shorts in front of his captive's face and grinned.

"You really don't have to--" Byers began, but lost track of what he was saying, softly moaning in response to what Jimmy's fingertips were doing to his balls. Or maybe it was Jimmy's lips on his throat that did the trick.

"Does this feel good?" Jimmy whispered.

"Incredibly good."

"What you did to me a little while ago? Figure that felt ten times better than this."

"Oh, god!"

Jimmy slowly moved his mouth down his throat, heading toward his chest.

"Jimmy?" Byers murmured. "Are you glad I was willing to do this with you?"

"Are you kidding? I never thought I'd be so lucky!"

"Figure that I feel at least as lucky."

"Really?"

"Really."

Jimmy basked in that reassurance as he continued inching his mouth slowly down his hero's exposed body, fully intending to take his own sweet time getting to his eventual destination. He had no idea what time of day it was or when checkout time was, but he was willing to risk Krycek getting stuck with an extra night on his motel bill.

*The End*

////////////

  
Archived: November 13, 2001 


End file.
